Recompense
by Rue and SneakWriter
Summary: With Loki imprisoned, a dark power begins to influence the minds of humans and gods alike, turning brother against brother. Thor and Loki!whump, eventual FrostIron.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: My second fic :D! It'll be mostly Loki/Thor centric, with lashings of Tony. Just a heads-up: we're thinking of changing our username, but haven't decided on a new one yet.**

He can almost swear Loki is _smiling_. Behind the metal muzzle covering his lower face, it is impossible to tell for sure, but Loki's eyes have lit up with glee and something akin to hope. _A life sentence_. Not the death sentence Thor has been fearing and Loki himself has been quietly dreading, but a life sentence. For the crimes of high treason and waging war against a peaceful realm, royal justice has been dealt – but Loki does not despair. Far from it. Death is so final; but life, even behind bars, at least holds the possibility of a second chance. Of revenge.

The Tesseract, still enclosed in its glass case, has been taken to the weapons vault, and Loki has been led away – far from the muttering crowds come to ogle at his humiliation, far from the sunlight, to the dungeons deep in the dank belly of Asgard, where the guards leave them. Thor's hand hasn't left his arm the entire way, periodically giving him slight squeezes as if to reassure him: _You can get through this, just a little longer and it'll be over_.

The son of Odin can't help but see Loki as a pitiable figure – defeated, shackled, his pale face still bruised and scabbed from his beating at the hand of the green beast, stripped of armour and battle-weathered leathers; but the eyes above the muzzle reveal his triumphant smirk. Thor frowns at him reprovingly before glancing around the dungeons, and Loki can tell from his face that he is not pleased with what he sees. Stone walls and frugal furnishings, stripped of all the luxuries and comforts to which a prince is accustomed.

_He pities me. The fool. Even when passing judgment, he still can't help his misplaced sympathy_.

A dull ache has begun to pervade Loki's jaw from wearing the muzzle too long. He has already tested it, trying to see how far he can part his lips, trying to poke his tongue out between his teeth so he can bite the tip and make himself bleed, to give them a reason to take the damned thing off, but the metal is unyielding. It's driving him mad. He resists the urge to claw it off his face, and instead meets Thor's gaze. The chain clanking between his wrists, he reaches up and touches the metal questioningly. He doesn't move as Thor walks behind him and wordlessly removes the muzzle. Loki waits until Odinson has turned his back before surreptitiously flexing his aching jaw, trying to make it click. Thor then frees Loki's wrists from their shackles.

'Satisfied?' Loki asks him.

Thor doesn't dignify his jab with an answer, instead saying without preamble:

'We should talk.'

'Is that not what we are doing right now?'

'I mean we should talk about…us. Our past, our childhood. Your…troubles.' Thor makes an aimless gesture.

'Please spare me your false piety, Odinson. We both know full well that I am no more than a troublesome inconvenience to you and the family.' With a wordless sneer, Loki turns away, pacing slowly around the dungeon. He is expecting the muscle-bound oaf to be needled by this, but Thor holds his temper surprisingly well.

'You will not make me angry,' Thor says, 'I've been thinking on this ever since your fall from the Bifrost, and I am prepared for whatever you might say to me.'

'Oh? I suppose I'll just have to try harder, then.'

'Both of us have much to answer for. Both of us are at fault,' Thor continues. Every aspect of Loki's body language and facial expression is telling him that his presence is unwelcome, but he soldiers on nonetheless, 'I know I always overshadowed you, both on the battlefield and in our parents' affections. But I want you to know that you were always loved. By me, Father, and Mother. Always. Whatever I have done to make you feel overlooked or ignored, to make you feel like your worth was less than mine, I sincerely apologise – '

'Really?' Loki interrupts, ' "_Imagined slights_" was what you said.'

'I meant no insult by it,' says Thor defensively. 'Whatever your pains are, I would never make light of them. You must know that.'

'Such false promises,' Loki's voice is quieter now, and heavy with bitterness, 'You sound like a child, Thor. A naïve, foolish child. As you always have.'

'Perhaps that is what I am. But, brother, if I had _known_…'

'Oh, you _knew_, Odinson. You just didn't _care_. All you had to do was swing your hammer and smile your brainless smile, and everybody _worshipped_ you. _Your_ friends were never _my_ friends, they only tolerated me because of their adoration for you. But I? I was always an embarrassment.'

'Brother!' Thor frustratedly sighs. 'Why must you make things more difficult? Is it not enough that you have been imprisoned indefinitely?'

With a snort of laughter, Loki stops his pacing to look Thor up and down.

'Look at you. Acting so wise and mighty and chivalrous, when not so long ago you were a brash, brazen, senseless fool not deserving of the armour he wore. Now you've _finally_ had some sense pounded into you, and you embrace your newfound superiority with an insufferable pomposity. What for? To please the All-Father? To atone for your old shame, your past failures? To impress that woman?'

Instantly the air changes. Loki can almost feel his hair going static as Odinson raises a threatening finger.

'_Don't_,' Thor orders, 'I'm warning you.'

Knowing he has crossed a line, Loki temporarily subsides, but of course he can't resist for long.

'Is she pretty?' he asks just as Odinson lowers his hand. Thor looks up, confused by the inexplicable enquiry, and nods. '_How_ pretty? Is she my type? Would I find her _interesting_?'

Before Loki can move, Thor has crossed the distance between them in a flash and seized him by the throat with both hands. Gritting his teeth, Loki manages to kick Thor's leg out from under him, but the heavier Asgardian regains his balance and does not relent his hold. Loki paws ineffectually at him and chokes.

'Don't you _dare_ speak of Jane!' Thor roars.

During their brief struggle, he slams Loki against the wall so hard the back of the trickster's head bounces off the stones. Dazed, Loki hangs there, unresisting. Realising Loki's struggles have ceased, Thor's mind clears – he sees his younger brother holding his breath, one hand raised in surrender and the other trying unsuccessfully to loosen Thor's grip on his throat.

Realising what he is doing, Thor releases him and backs off. Catching his breath, the trickster stifles a painful cough; rising, he touches his bruised back and walks stiffly to the furthest confines of his cell, putting as much distance between himself and Thor as possible. Thor feels ashamed; but when he recalls Loki's taunts, he is deeply angered.

'Be glad,' Thor seethes, 'that you are not a common criminal; otherwise I would have you flogged for this insult.'

He wipes the sweat from his forehead and leaves without another word, the stone door clanking and grinding shut behind him.

They do not speak again for a month.

Loki's ego is hurt as much as this throat, but both hurts quickly heal. Left to rot, he is faced with two choices: insanity or patience. So he makes his choice. He grows accustomed to his cell, with the contours of the ceiling and the scratch-marks on the rocks. There is no way to keep track of the passage of time underground, but he knows from his meals when it's morning and when it's evening – porridge and bruised apples mean breakfast, while soup and stale bread mean supper. The guards do not speak to him when they bring him food, and he ignores them.

Sometimes, in moments of weakness, he wonders:_ How long will it take for me to grow white-haired and withered like Old One-Eye? Will my mind be dulled, my wits weakened? A millennia is a long time, even for a god_. But he doesn't allow these doubts to take hold. Instead, he sits and meditates, biding his time, waiting – for what? He isn't sure. Perhaps Asgard will be conquered by some other realm and Loki will be able to escape. Perhaps in a few thousand years the All-Father will fall into the Odinsleep, Thor will ascend the throne and Frigga will beg him to overturn Loki's sentence. Either way, when the time comes, he'll be ready. Sooner or later, an opportunity will arise.

'**Not soon enough.'**

Loki's eyes go wide, his muscles slackening before he is seized by violent, uncontrollable tremors. Doubled over, his fingers scratch helplessly at his temples in sheer horror as the pervasive voice in his head continues:

'**Cease your quivering, wretch. You've already failed me once before. Fail me again and I will tear you apart piece by piece, from the inside out. I will strip your mind bare and leave it a bleeding, gaping wound. By the time I finish with you, you will not even remember your own name. Heed my warning, Loki Laufeyson.'**

Reeling, Loki shudders, hands clawing at his head. Suddenly the voice is soft and insidious, crooning like a mother's lullaby:

'**You may still be of service to me. You know the ways between the realms, and how to open them. The All-Father has something of mine in his possession: a gauntlet, with six gems embedded. No doubt you know it well.'**

All Loki can do is nod, his jaw frozen and eyes glassy. The voice is pushing him deeper and deeper into the ground, the walls of the dungeon seeming to grow further and further away from his reach even as claustrophobia closes in on him like a trap.

'**Aid me, and the world will be yours. You are a king by right of birth. Your rule over the Nine Realms will be more glorious than even Odin All-Father's.'**

On his belly, Loki coughs and dry-heaves. Gradually the spasms and nausea pass, the painful pounding of his heart slows to a regular rate, and his body relaxes as the words seep through him, burying themselves deep in the cracks of his damaged mind.

'I will not fail you again,' he finally utters, realising as he does so that his mouth has completely dried up, his throat reduced to a parched wasteland. 'The gauntlet and the cube will be yours to wield; Asgard and all its people mine to subjugate. _But_…I have only one condition. Thor and his parents will be imprisoned, but they are not to be harmed by anyone but me. I want them alive. Agreed?'

'**Agreed.'**

'The rest of Asgard can crumble and burn, and its people weep and wail for all I care.'

'**How will you rule them, then?'**

'Unmercifully.'

The crushing darkness lifts and Loki is left gasping, alone. He sits huddled in a corner of his cell as normality returns and his mind gradually resumes its machinations. The silence and solitude seem somehow a little less oppressive, as if a ray of light – of _hope_ – is leaking into his prison. He has a purpose. He has an _ally_. And soon, he will have his vengeance.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Lots of thank yous to EvilConcubine, LilaC LioN, Guest, kakashidiot, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, Guest, Aquarinus, Ariana Haldthin, angrbodagiantess and Guest for reviewing, and my Favers and Followers for Faving and Following :oD. Hope you enjoy.**

He is still sitting there, leaning against the wall with his back to the door, lost in thought, when Thor finally extends the olive branch. Supper hasn't come yet, and when he realises it's late he experiences a brief moment of panic, wondering if he has been condemned to death by slow starvation, before it occurs to him that this is probably just some vindictive tactic meant to punish him for his insolence. The food will come eventually, of course, but not before Loki is allowed to experience hunger. However, this theory is discarded when Thor himself drops by, the scraping of bolts and grinding of stone heralding his arrival.

'I knew you couldn't stay away for long,' Loki says without looking around.

'Are you hungry, brother?'

'Nobody brought me anything.'

'I ordered them not to, because I wanted to bring it myself. Unfortunately I was delayed. Here. Eat,' says Thor. With a scornful retort ready in his mouth, Loki turns to behold his brother's work. There is buttered bread fresh from the oven, meat still sizzling from the roasting fire, stew seasoned with herbs and spices, bunches of grapes and a tankard of wine. Despite Loki's best effort to reject his appetite, it smells mouth-watering, and he can't help his gaze lingering on the tray for a second too long. Encouragingly, Thor picks up a spoon and pokes the stew about on the plate, then offers the spoon's handle to Loki, looking hopeful. Loki turns away. 'Don't you want it?'

'I presume this is your peace offering?'

'No, it's your supper.'

'And what is the prince's excuse for lavishing such privileges on a lowly prisoner?'

'Excuse? What excuse do I need? You are neither lowly nor undeserving of having a proper meal in your belly.'

'But I am undeserving of my freedom and my rightful throne?'

'_Loki_,' Thor cautions him in a low voice.

'Tell me. Why do you waste your time in this dank pit with me? Don't you have better things to do? Shouldn't you be off fighting more glorious wars and gracing the humans with your presence, taking your mind off your disgrace of a brother?'

'Would you _rather_ I left you alone?' Thor growls. Knowing better than to push Thor's buttons again, Loki takes the tray without a word, placing it on his lap and starting to eat. The first bite of roast meat is almost overwhelming, and he realises this must have been taken straight from the crown-prince's own table. Thor stands there watching him eat, and says reproachfully, 'You should not have spoken of Jane in that way. Do not mention her again in my presence. Understood?'

'Yes,' Loki answers shortly. After what seems to be a long minute of internal struggling, he adds in a flat voice, 'I apologise.' His mouth cringes away from the phrase.

He can't see Thor's face, but Odinson's surprise is almost palpable.

'Well, then I forgive you.' Thor's spirits lift and he smiles; but the smile fades as he stoops and examines Loki's face. 'Are you unwell, brother? You look shaken and clammy.'

'I'm fine,' says Loki with _just_ the right amount of sullen remorse to be convincing. He has to be careful – too much contrition and Thor will grow suspicious; too little and Thor will grow impatient.

'During our last encounter, did I…hurt you?'

Loki doesn't answer, as if he is unwilling to admit his pain. Thor looks ashamed.

'Is there something I can bring you to make you more comfortable? A blanket?'

_A weapon? The key to this cursed prison? The Tesseract?_

'A book or a bigger cell,' Loki scoffs.

'I'll have a servant deliver your book collection tomorrow,' Thor says solemnly, 'I doubt Father would be willing to have you transferred from this prison, but I'll try to persuade him to reconsider this arrangement.'

'It was a jest, Thor. I don't expect to see the outside of this prison any time in the next million years.'

'You mustn't give up hope.'

'Hope of what? What hope have I?'

Thor cannot reply to that.

'Is it good?' he gestures to the food, changing the subject. Loki beats down his natural inclination to sneer, and gives a single nod. Odinson looks pleased. 'I shall come again tomorrow. Farewell until then, brother.'

Thor turns to leave, and Loki plays his first card.

'Does the All-Father know you're here?'

'He doesn't need to know.'

'So you've gone behind his back. I thought so. He'll find out eventually, you know, and he won't be best pleased.'

Unexpectedly Thor crouches down, places his hands on Loki's shoulders and looks him in the eye.

'When it comes to your wellbeing, I care not for the opinions of others. I will visit you every day until you are freed – and you _will_ be freed, even if it takes an age,' Thor hesitates, then adds, 'Brother. Your sentence may be long, but you need not spend it alone. All I want is to help you through this, if you will let me.'

With that, Thor departs, and Loki's plan is in motion.

It's subtle. It starts as a mild, ticklish rasp creeping around the edges of his speech, but after three weeks, it has deteriorated into a painful-sounding cough. Loki's throat becomes genuinely sore from the strain, and it's not difficult to feign an expression of discomfort. Naturally, he resists all of Thor's attempts to find out what ails him, but eventually permits Thor to feel his forehead and throat, checking for a fever.

'You are cold,' Thor delivers his verdict.

'How discerning of you.'

'Do your bones ache? Is your belly uneasy?'

'I'm fine.'

'But your coughing grows worse by the day.'

'Don't be a fool. I'm fine,' Loki repeats, though he must suppress the urge to laugh at the look on Thor's face. He can tell that Thor is restraining his emotions; outwardly he wears a concerned frown, but inwardly he must be beside himself with worry for his poor, neglected, suffering brother. 'As for my temperature, do you forget what I am? I am a Jötunn – a _Frost_ Giant.'

He takes another bite of pastry. Lately Odinson has been spoiling him with pies filled with honey and the harvest's sweetest fruits and berries. In Thor's mind, progress is being made. Loki is becoming…well, not _nicer_, but less openly antagonistic, at least. While Loki munches, he considers his next move. Should he put on a show, and beg? Should he cling to Thor's hand, or possibly leg, and pretend the isolation and shame have broken him? He knows Thor would forgive him on the spot, and Frigga would soon follow suit. Of course she would. Ever the loving and nurturing mother, despite her disappointment in her adopted son, she cannot help but look at him with tender eyes. But Odin? Odin can be harsh. He has proved that in the past. The All-Father will be a problem.

By now, Thor has convinced himself that his brother is ill.

'This is unacceptable,' he declares, gesturing around at the dungeon. 'I will not allow my brother, a prince of Asgard, to languish in such squalor, unattended and un-cared-for. I will go to Father and demand that you be examined by a healer.'

'I do not need a healer. It is a trifling cough, nothing more. It'll pass.'

'Trifling it may be, but what if it heralds the onset of something worse? If you have an illness coming, it is best to nip it in the bud.'

'Believe whatever you want,' says Loki dismissively and wipes his hands clean of crumbs.

'_**How long are you going to keep me waiting?'**_

Loki stiffens, the wooden plate falling from his hands to clatter on the ground. Suddenly his head feels strangely light, as if it is separated from his body.

'_**Don't test my patience, Loki Laufeyson. I will uphold my end of the bargain only as long as you uphold yours.'**_

'Brother?' He dimly hears Thor's voice coming from somewhere overhead, and realises he is no longer sitting upright, but lying on his side; he becomes vaguely aware that he is shivering uncontrollably. 'Brother, can you hear me? Brother! Guards! Guards!'

Loki faints.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Lots of thank yous to ArainaHaldthin, EvilConcubine, T, Aquarinus, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, Lady Charity, Guest, FullMetalBlunt and angrbodagiantess for reviewing, and my Favers and Followers for Faving and Following. Please enjoy! :o)**

Raised voices are coming from overhead, muffled and meaningless; as Loki surfaces from the dark fog of delirium, they gradually start to make sense.

'It was not a _pretence_, Father! He went rigid and then collapsed without warning!'

'These symptoms can be easily feigned.'

'How can you speak so? He was _unconscious_! I threw water in his face but he didn't so much as blink. Whatever Loki's talents at deceit, I doubt he can lose consciousness at will.' _Thor_, Loki recognises. _Thor and Odin, shouting at each other. Where am I?_ 'Can you not see how weakened he is? His health is deteriorating while you sit by idly! If he does because of your unwillingness to act, I will never – '

'Loki's fate will remain unchanged – my word on that is final. As soon as he is able to walk, take him straight back to the dungeons; he may have weekly visits from a healer, but that is all. And next time you decide to let him out, seek my permission first. I will discuss the matter no further.'

Loki opens his eyes to find himself lying in a large and comfortable bed, propped up on soft pillows. The arched golden panels of the ceiling come into focus. _The palace healing room_. He can't believe his luck. Slightly less propitious are the two armed guards flanking his bedside, and the fact that he is shackled. Turning his head, all he sees of Odin is the back of a white robe as the All-Father sweeps out of the door.

'Brother, you are awake.' Thor strides towards him, the vestiges of anger still lining his forehead as he bends down to look him worriedly in the face. 'How do you feel?'

'A little strange. What happened?'

'Don't you remember?'

'I remember you talking incessantly. Then I woke up here.'

'You had some kind of…episode. The healers have examined you closely but found nothing wrong with you save a sore throat.' Thor's tone implies that he doubts the integrity of the diagnosis. 'If I had my way, you would remain here until fully recovered, but Father refuses to allow it.'

'That's to be expected.' Spotting a jug of water by the side of his bed, Loki reaches towards it only to be thwarted by the metal restraints. He hopes this will prompt Thor to unshackle him, but instead Odinson pours him a drink and hands it to him. The water tastes noticeably cleaner than what Loki has become accustomed to in the dungeons, and he savours it as it soothes his hoarse throat. 'Where is Mother? Did she have no desire to see me?'

'She has not been informed. I do not doubt that she would have come immediately had she only known, but I deemed it best to keep your presence in the palace a secret from all but Father and the healers…Do you want me to fetch her?'

'No. She'll only distress herself; you know that.'

'Very well. Try to stand up.' Putting aside the empty cup, Loki obeys. He feels rather unsteady at first, but the feeling soon leaves him as he breathes deep of the sweet, free air. Thor mutters something to one of the guards, receives a nod in reply, then places a gentle but firm hand on Loki's shoulder. 'It's time to go, brother.'

Loki is escorted out of the healing room. Even as he stays docile and unresisting, his mind is working frenziedly. Soon they will be out of the palace and enroute to the dungeons – a road from which there will be no turning back. He knows he will only have one chance. In the middle of a passageway, he stops and sags against the nearest wall. Thor orders the two guards to halt.

'What's wrong?' he asks suspiciously.

'Nothing. I feel suddenly light-headed, that's all.'

'Let me carry you.'

'Not in front of _them_,' Loki pushes him away. 'Don't be a fool.' Thor looks exasperated but doesn't protest. Loki hangs his head – stalling for time – and cups his fingers to conceal the tiny dagger materialising in his grip. Out of the corner of his eye, he takes note of one of the guard's spears, just over an arm's length away. 'I feel dizzy…'

Thor glances left and right up and down the passage.

'We should not tarry here. Come, let me carry you.'

'I can walk. Just give me a moment.'

Loki knows he has only seconds left before he is forcibly ushered on, and then he will have missed his only chance. It's now or never. While Thor is looking the other way, Loki makes his move – a dagger to the guard's hamstring followed by a kick to the now-crippled leg puts the spear in his hands and its previous owner on the floor. From behind, he thrusts the weapon straight through Thor's back, exiting through the centre of Odinson's chest; with a cry, Thor drops to his knees. Loki doesn't waste time gloating over his gullibility, but flings him aside along with the spear. The remaining guardsman makes a lunge, but a quick manoeuvre turns the attack to Loki's advantage as the spearhead shears through the chain connecting his wrists. His hands freed, Loki flings the dagger into the guard's throat and runs.

Despite being confined to a cell for two months, Loki has conserved his energy well. He feels heat on his back as a blaze of lightning floods the corridor, but thankfully Thor's aim is suffering from being impaled. Loki teleports, feeling the familiar lurch as he moves from one point of space in the other with no logical, physical transition in between, leaving behind nothing but a mirror-image of himself which runs in the opposite direction. He knows he can't keep it up for long – the effort of keeping his mind in two places at once is too much of a strain – but it's enough to give him a headstart. He slips from cover to cover with the swiftness and ease of a shadow, navigating effortlessly the palace he has called home for as long as he can remember.

Two more guards are there to greet him at the doors to the weapons vault, but he quickly dispenses with them. They waste precious seconds on surprise before attacking, only for their blades to pass through him in a shimmer of gold, leaving a momentary streak in midair. Seconds later, both their corpses hit the floor. Letting the illusions dissipate into nothing, Loki concentrates on his goal. Pushing open the doors and heading straight down the stone steps, he approaches the Infinity Gauntlet on its pedestal – freedom and victory within his grasp – but the second he lays a hand on the artefact, a stern voice freezes him in his tracks.

'_Stop_.' Gungnir booms against the floor. Loki turns to see the All-Father standing at the top of the stairs. 'Put the gauntlet back where it belongs.'

'Oh, come now,' Loki scoffs. 'Why give up when I've come this far? What have I to lose?'

'Your brother's trust.'

'What does that matter when I have this?' Loki holds up his hand to admire its new armour, the six Infinity Gems forming a rainbow of colours across his knuckles. 'Built by Thanos, the Mad Titan, the lover and worshipper of Death, before you _stole_ it from him. Its wearer has power over life and death, mind and soul, the past, the present and the future, the very fabric of space and reality. A fit companion for a king, is it not?'

'You do not know how to wield it properly. One misjudged attempt could kill you. Its power is beyond you.'

'Who says I want it for myself? It's only mine for safekeeping. Once my ally wears it, you will no longer be the highest authority in this universe. Nothing will stand in his way…nor in mine. But in the meantime – '

They are interrupted by the arrival of Thor, gripping his hammer tightly and panting. He glowers at Loki.

'Oh, so you _were_ on my heels,' says Loki, 'I thought you'd fallen for the false trail as usual. What gave it away?'

'Do not make me angrier than I already am,' Thor snaps, 'You've nowhere else to run to. It is not too late to yield. Surrender now and I will be merciful.'

'Why? So I can spend the rest of my life rotting in the dark? Swept under the carpet?'

'There are worse alternatives,' Odin points out.

Loki rolls his eyes, and raises his gauntleted fist. The contents of the vault are levelled as a shockwave jars the citadel to its very foundations; the entire chamber shudders, a masterpiece of metal and stone threatening to crumble into rubble. Loki finds himself sprawled in an undignified heap, dazed and disorientated. His vision clears to find the sharp tip of Gungnir gleaming at his throat. Odin's hands are slightly unsteady, but his gaze is firm and unwavering.

'Lie still until the guards come to restrain you,' he says, 'If you fight back, we will kill you. Thor, take the gauntlet.'

Loki's first instinct is to spit and struggle, but the blade is too close, too sharp…As he lies there, he can feel tremors running deep through the ground as the aftershock continues to resonate. Thor starts to obey when Odin collapses, his royal sceptre clattering to the floor and rolling from his limp hand.

'Father!' Thor shakes him by the shoulder, a note of fear entering his voice at the unthinkable sight of the king lying helpless. 'Father, can you hear me? Wake!'

'He sleeps,' Loki interjects, 'He will sleep as long as I wish it. His reign is ended.'

'_What have you done?_' Thor demands, wheeling to face him.

'Why don't you wait and see?' Loki's laughter is mixed with a groan of pain as he eases himself into a sitting position. 'In fact, you should probably go now. You're missing all the action and I know you love a good battle. Go, and watch your precious Asgard tear itself apart.'

Thor realises he can hear marching footsteps coming closer and closer, and turns just in time to see a phalanx of armed guards come into view. They come to an abrupt halt, spear-butts hitting the floor in unison as they stand to attention. Thor looks around, confused, realising too late what is happening, that their eyes are glowing a deep, unearthly blue. Before he has a chance to react, a volley of spears are hurled his way, and each one finds its mark. He splutters up blood and collapses.

'Take him away,' Loki orders. As he rises to his feet slowly and with difficulty, a wave of nausea washes over him; an all-too-familiar voice whispers threats at the back of his mind. Without another glance at his defeated enemies, he limps away.

At last, passing from darkness into the light of day, he emerges into a scene of utter chaos. Asgard seems transformed. The gleaming walls and ornate columns of the throne-room are scarred from battle, and every few feet lies a dead Asgardian – a warrior with their sword still in their hand, an unarmed innocent felled from behind while fleeing for their lives. He sees Lady Sif fighting back-to-back with Hogun the Grim. He sees Volstagg, wounded, being supported by Fandral. He sees Heimdall, no longer standing guard at his post, but in the thick of the mêlée. The air is filled with screams and the clash of steel as warriors are forced to slay their own shield-brothers.

With Gungnir in one hand and the Infinity Gauntlet on the other, Loki begins the long climb up the steps to the dais, ignoring the battle raging on either side of him. The throne, empty and inviting, awaits…Around him, the tide of the conflict turns as Sif, the Warriors Three and the Gatekeeper are outnumbered and overwhelmed. At sword-point, citizens are being herded like cattle towards the dungeons by Loki's thralls.

In a single hour of bloodshed and desolation, Asgard falls, and Loki Lie-Smith ascends the throne.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you to ArainaHaldthin, Evil Concubine, Guest, THORKISUPPORT, kakashidiot, Aquarinus, LilaC LioN, Guest, angrbodagiantess and Guest for reviewing, and my Favers and Followers for Faving and Following :oD**

The noise as the stone door grinds open is jarringly loud in the silence; Loki feels a slight prickle of trepidation as he steps into the same cell where only yesterday he was held prisoner. The books, cushions, wine-goblets and other evidence of Thor's daily visits have been cleared away, and its new occupant is standing chained to the far wall: Odin. His gilded eye-patch is missing, leaving the scarred hollow of his right eye exposed. His other eye follows Loki appraisingly, and judging by his unruffled demeanour, he is completely unfazed by his situation.

'Oh, this _is_ fitting, is it not?' Loki smiles as he relishes the sight of the former king. 'Let's dispense with formalities, shall we? I didn't come here to offer you terms or conditions. I've only come to gloat, and to marvel at how far you have fallen. I suppose you've been busy planning how you're going to escape. I must tell you, quite simply, you _won't_. Because if you do…if you even _attempt_ to…I will annihilate every last living soul in Asgard.'

'You are incapable of such bloodshed,' says Odin calmly.

'Perhaps, but my new thralls are not. You know, I recognised one of the guards who escorted me to my cell. I made him fall on his own sword. He did so without hesitation.'

'And is this the glorious reign you envisioned? How do you intend to sit on a throne you usurped, to rule over a people who despise you?'

'I have not usurped anything. The throne is mine by right of conquest,' Loki counters, 'And besides, how can the people rise up against me when I have claimed their minds as my own? With Thanos at my side, I – '

'Did he threaten you?' Odin interrupts out of nowhere. Loki seems to freeze, the sound of his slow, calculated steps faltering. 'What promises did the Mad Titan make? What dark threats hang over your head that you would wreak such destruction on your own home, your own people, solely to protect yourself?'

'Asgard is not my home. The Asgardians are not my people.'

'Then what right have you to call yourself their king?'

Loki lashes out, Gungnir's gleaming blade narrowly missing the All-Father left eye. As the echoes die and a slow trickle of blood begins to drip to the floor, Odin shows no reaction.

'Be careful, old man,' Loki hisses, 'Or soon they will be calling you The Blind King. Come to think of it, I could claim your mind too. I could make you do whatever I wished.' He points the stolen sceptre at Odin. 'Have you forgotten that I also have _Thor_ in my custody? _Thor_, who you – in your infinite wisdom and infallible foresight – treated as my superior? In fact, why don't we have a little family reunion, just the three of us? Shall I bring him here now? Shall I torture him in front of you? Your precious boy?'

'Thor can withstand torture. He is stronger than you.' The words cut deeper than Loki is willing to admit to himself. 'He was kind to you even after your many betrayals. I discouraged him from visiting you in prison, on the grounds that it would accomplish nothing, but he insisted. He _refused_ to let you suffer alone. Is this how you repay his generosity?'

'I tire of you,' Loki turns his back.

'Loki!' Odin's voice is sharp. Like a reprimanded child, Loki automatically stops. 'With the throne in your grasp, you think yourself equal to Thanos. You are wrong. You are but a shadow of his power and ruthlessness. Displease him, and he will destroy you utterly. If you give him the gauntlet, then the Nine Realms and all the universe you have ever known will be gone. Is that what you want?'

Loki can think of nothing to say.

'I am going to offer you one last chance to save yourself. If you return what you have stolen and free the innocents you have persecuted, no harm will come to you. I will protect you from your false ally. But if you persist…if you continue down this path you have chosen…I will not be forgiving. Now, I will ask you one more time: is Thanos truly your friend, or did he threaten you?'

_Tell him the truth_, Loki thinks suddenly. _Tell him and ask for his help. No matter what I've done, Father would never turn his back on me if I asked for his help_. Loki trembles on the verge of cracking, but then…_No. Those are the thoughts of a frightened child, not a king_. His gauntleted hand clenches into a fist, and he musters a sneer.

'What exactly is it you are offering me?'

'Your salvation.'

'A chance to curb my ambitions, so I can return to languishing in Thor's shadow? A chance to surrender the only hope I've ever had of being king? I will not be brought to heel like a dog, All-Father. I will not be suppressed by you any longer.'

'Then you are no longer my son, and for the crimes you have committed you will face retribution.'

Flustered, Loki leaves without a reply. He quickly recovers himself once he has left the cell behind and is flanked by his new thralls, the blue glow of their eyes brighter than the flaming torches they bear, reminding him of the power he holds in the palm of his hand._ Self-doubt is a thing of the past_. Around him he can hear the whispers and shuffle of many bodies huddled together; the dungeons are filled to capacity.

'Have you found my mother yet?' he addresses one of them as they emerge into the light of day.

'She was attempting to escape, my liege. We caught her shepherding the servants into a hidden passage and ordering them to seal themselves in. She fought but we disarmed her. We are keeping her confined to her chambers until further notice.'

'And she is unhurt?'

'Yes, my liege.'

'Good.' Passing by the throne-room where repairs are underway, Loki contemplates taking a moment to sit and survey his new kingdom, but decides he has more pressing matters at hand. Reaching the bed-chambers which Frigga has been confined to, he finds her waiting for him, standing tall and proud as ever. Her jaw is tense, and clasped protectively to her chest is Odin's ram's-horn helmet. Behind her cower the gaggle of hand-maidens she has been trying to protect.

'Are you comfortable, Mother?' Loki asks. He moves close as if to touch her arms, but stops just short of making physical contact, his hands hovering over her skin. 'She is cold. Why have you not tended to her properly? Did I not make it clear that she was to everything she needed?' he snarls at his entourage, who hurry to amend their oversight. 'There is nothing to fear, Mother. My thralls will not hurt you.'

Frigga drops the helmet with a clatter and steps towards him. The slap rings loudly in the room. Loki looks down at her, wordless, his expression teetering between one of outrage and one of hurt.

'_How could you do this?_' the queen demands. 'You have forsaken us, you have forsaken everyone that loves and cares for you. Where is your father?'

'Still alive,' says Loki with annoyance. 'I haven't killed him.'

'And your brother?'

'Wounded, but the same.'

'Why have you done this?'

' "Why"?' Loki exclaims incredulously, but then the vitriol seems to abandon him. A smile falters across his lips, but his eyes are joyless and stinging; _from tiredness_, he thinks, before he blinks and the bitter tears cloud his vision. 'This was always going to happen – you should've seen it coming. You should've known better than to save me from death's door, only to let me live a life of false hope and broken promises. You are the ones that forsook me. And now you reap what you sow.'

'How can you say that?' But Frigga's voice is softening, her righteous anger giving way to empathy, a different kind of pain. 'How can you even think that for one second? You are my son, dearer to me than my own life. Come back to me.' She reaches up to cup his face, but he pushes her hands aside.

'Do not touch me,' he snaps, 'I am your _king_.'

'You are my _child_,' she insists.

Loki can stand this no more, and turns to the thralls, saying:

'I've changed my mind. She is to receive no special attention nor privileges; take her to the dungeons and lock her up with the rest.' Without making eye-contact with Frigga, he exits, the taste of anger and disappointment sour on his tongue.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Loads of thank yous to Evil Concubine, Guest, ArainaHaldthin, Aquarinus, THORKISUPPORT, Lady Charity, kakashidiot, Guest, LilaC LioN, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, mad tentacles, Guest, FullMetalBlunt, JS, wbss21 and angrbodagiantess for reviewing, and my Favers and Followers for Faving and Following :oD. Please enjoy!**

Consciousness comes trickling back in a bit at a time, starting with dim, fuzzy noises in his ears, followed by the awareness of a terrible ache pervading his shoulders. Thor finally awakens, kneeling on a smooth golden floor with both arms outstretched. Reflexively he struggles, and realises he is chained between two colossal pillars. Almost as soon as he stirs, he hears the sound of a door opening and the familiar, soft, subtle tread of Loki's boots. Sure enough, it's the trickster, bedecked in ceremonial armour, his right hand gloved in gem-encrusted gold.

'Good evening, brother.'

Thor jerks compulsively upon hearing him speak, gritting his teeth. He spots his hammer on the floor nearby, likewise wrapped in chains. He extends his hand as much as he can, every muscle and sinew taut, and Mjölnir stirs and strains to meet him, but it's no use. Loki sits cross-legged on the floor a few feet in front of him, and observes his futile efforts with amusement.

'You might as well stop,' he advises, but the Son of Odin pays him no heed. 'You threatened to flog me once. Remember? I could have you dragged out in the middle of the public courtyard and whipped for all of Asgard to see. But, you see, I'm not like you. I believe in finesse, not brute force.'

Thor finally stops trying to summon Mjölnir.

'You are right,' he replies through a dry, slurry mouth, 'You are _nothing_ like me.'

Loki gives a snort of laughter.

'It's taken you this long to come to that conclusion?' Loki leans forward until he can feel strands of Thor's straggling hair brush his lips, and whispers, 'You've made my life Hel for a long time, Odinson. Now, I am going to return the favour. I am going to break you piece by piece, and you will have no choice but to watch while everything you love turns to ash. And I am going to savour every sweet moment of it.'

Without warning Thor headbutts him in the face. Caught off-guard, Loki rocks backward and has to catch himself. His eyes never leaving Thor's, he raises one hand to touch his lower lip and finds it bleeding; unfazed, he continues:

'Midgard will be next. Your friends will put up a fight, of course – but once they fall, the Earth will be mine. I'll be sure to give Jane your love.'

'Please,' Thor interjects, and Loki actually stops, because he has never heard (nor considered the possibility of ever hearing) Thor beg. Argue, yes, and try to persuade, but never _beg_. 'This is not who you are. Kill me in whatever manner you desire, if that's what will calm your anger. But Asgard and Earth have done nothing to deserve your wrath.'

'No, they have not,' Loki admits, 'But nevertheless, they will burn.' With that, he leaves.

It is only then that Thor begins to come to terms with how _hopeless_ everything is. He dreads what his brother will do – not to him, but to others who are less fortunate. Loki at least has some motivation to keep his family alive and relatively unharmed, but Sif, the Warriors Three…Jane…he has no reason to let them live. And moreover, he has no sense of mercy to be appealed to. Thor sinks deeper into despair as time passes, starvation begins to gnaw at his belly, and his hope of rescue diminishes. Loki visits frequently, just to sit and talk and bask in his victory. Thor tries to ignore him, but on his knees can do nothing but listen and seethe.

'When will he show his face, this…_ally_ of yours who you keep speaking of?' he eventually asks. This time Loki is sitting somewhere off to the side, perhaps reading a book – every now and then a rustling page is audible.

'In time,' Loki replies flippantly, 'Meanwhile, I've been considering waging war on Alfheim. The Light Elves are a peaceful race and should offer little resistance. How does that sound to you? I'll be king over two realms.'

'_King_,' Thor mutters in a low voice, 'You call yourself king yet you are _nothing_ without the allies and trinkets you gain by lying and stealing.'

'Oh, come, I'm only trying to make conversation. By the way, that fool Fandral managed to escape yesterday. He seemed quite determined to find you and free you. Naturally it wasn't long before we caught him.'

'If you harm him, I'll – ' Thor growls, but before he can finish his promise he is silenced by a coughing fit which sends pain spiking through his torso. Loki is silent for a while, then asks:

'Does it hurt?'

'No.'

'Terrible liar,' Loki tsks, 'Well, I'm not unchaining you if that's what you're suggesting – '

'I suggest nothing,' says Thor contemptuously, 'I would never request nor expect a favour from one such as you.'

Loki is silent again, then the book snaps shut and he rises and walks away. About a minute later he returns. Thor doesn't move, until something hard is pushed against his mouth unexpectedly; he draws back angrily before realising it's the rim of a cup. A moment later, the cool, clean liquid touches his lips. Part of him latches onto this minor display of kindness as proof that his brother still has some good in him, still refusing to entertain the notion that they are irrevocably estranged; but a larger part of him simply wants to spit the water in Loki's face. He restrains himself from doing so and drinks. When he is done, he gives a single nod of thanks.

'Fandral is blameless,' he continues in a slightly more controlled tone, 'He has only Asgard's best interests at heart, and it's…understandable that he did what he did. If it pleases you, hold me responsible instead. But let him go unpunished.'

'I already had him beaten,' Loki confesses. Suddenly the water in Thor's belly seems as bitter and unwelcome as acid, and he regrets ever harbouring a charitable thought towards Loki. 'I did think about making you watch, but in the end I – '

Thor yells incoherently and struggles like a wild animal in a snare. Loki instinctively draws back from his brother's rage, but the chains do not yield to even Odinson's great strength.

'I give you my word,' Thor's voice is cracking with emotion, 'If I get the chance – even if I die trying – I will kill you.'

'You could never kill me. You haven't the spine to – you've proved that in the past. You're too weak.' Loki tucks his book under one arm and gives a wide but shaky smile. 'Now if you'll excuse me, I have a kingdom to attend to.'


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Lots and lots of thank yous to lederra, kakashidiot, EvilConcubine, Guest, cocopuffs jewel, THORKISUPPORT, LilaC LioN, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, Guest, StarTrekFanWriter, ArainaHaldthin, FullMetalBlunt, angrbodagiantess, Guest, Aquarinus, wbss21, keske and Guest for reviewing, my Favers and Followers for Faving and Following, and of course my squishy beta Rue. Please enjoy! :oD**

'_Brother_.' A soft, worried voice enters his awareness as he drifts in and out of a fitful, uneasy half-sleep, his head hanging low. 'Brother. Wake up. Please wake. They say they're going to kill me.'

Cold, nervous fingers pat his cheek, coaxing him back from the darkness. _Loki_. Anger stirs within him as he recognises the whisperer. He hears the scrape of a key and the click of a lock, and suddenly the chains go slack with a noisy rattle. Loki catches him as he slumps forward. He can't really think straight; all he registers is Loki whispering in his ear:

'If I free you, you have to take me with you. They're going to kill me. Do you understand?'

Before he can continue, Thor has seized him by the throat. As Odinson coughs and lurches upright, Loki is forced to stand up too. Seeing him close-up, Thor realises that Loki is no longer wearing the Infinity Gauntlet, and that his skin shines with a sickly, nervous sweat.

'You betrayed us all,' Thor rasps.

'I know.' Loki's eyes are moist. 'Now I'm trying to stop what I've started. Let me go.' Thor does so with more force than is necessary, pushing him away. 'Take me with you,' Loki insists. He glances over his shoulder at the door as if expecting to see an eavesdropper, but there is no-one in sight. 'I got you out of these chains, now you have to get me out of here.'

'Why should I?'

'Because you'll never survive otherwise. Neither will Mother and Father. And if you don't help me, they'll kill me.'

'Who will?'

'The thralls. They answer to Thanos, not me.'

Thor is wrestling uselessly with Mjölnir's restraints. It finally sinks in what Loki is saying. It's as if something inside him – a leaden, crushing weight he hadn't even realised was there – has suddenly lifted._ Of course. Of course he would never have done this of his own volition. He was blackmailed, forced, threatened_…

'Thor, there's no time. We can't break the chains and I don't have the key.'

Thor can barely walk. With his arm around Loki's shoulders, he leans on his brother. Loki stumbles under his bulk, then regains his balance. Together they emerge into the dark, deserted corridor.

'…Where is everyone?'

'I managed to create a diversion. We must go before the guard returns.' They stop at a corner. 'Wait here. If someone comes, hide.'

He leaves Thor leaning against the wall and disappears around the corner. Thor is breathing heavily and flexing his numb fingers, clenching them into fists as his blood resumes its normal circulation. Minutes trickle by in silence – what is taking Loki so long? Just when Thor is about to push onwards alone, Loki reappears, hastening towards him.

'The coast is clear. Hurry.' He half-helps, half-pulls Thor along.

'…Father…the others…?'

'I do not know where they are being held. The dungeons are too heavily guarded. Come, brother, let's not delay – '

'No. We cannot leave without them.'

'There isn't time,' Loki protests. 'If _both_ of us get caught, there is no hope.'

They are interrupted by the pounding of footsteps, and seconds later a group of blue-eyed thralls appear, their swords drawn.

'Hand over the Lie-Smith, Odinson,' their leader barks. 'Hand him over and we will let you go.'

Loki backs away, looking terrified. His eyes meet Thor's and he shakes his head pleadingly. Thor clenches his teeth and orders "Get behind me". _There's too many of them…there's no way out…but if this is my last stand, I'll make it a memorable one_…With Loki shielded behind him, Thor prepares to go down fighting. Suddenly there is a blinding pain across the backs of his hamstrings. His legs buckle immediately and he falls heavily to the floor, crippled. Twisting around, he finds himself staring up at his assailant. _Loki_. The trickster has shed his unarmoured, unarmed glamour, and the gauntlet has re-materialised – along with Gungnir, whose blade is now stained with Thor's blood.

'Have you learned your lesson yet, _Odinson?_' Loki snarls. 'I am not your brother. I will not be reasoned with, and I will not be challenged.' Nodding to the thralls, he adds, 'Put the prisoner back where he belongs. Perhaps now he will know better than to weary me with his sentimental platitudes.'

With this final betrayal, something seems to snap inside Thor. The brother whom he had seconds ago been ready to die protecting is now watching as he is dragged away like a sack of meat; the Son of Odin is unable to restrain himself from yelling and struggling madly.

Miles deep below the pounding of their boots, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three are huddled in the dark of the dungeons. Fandral is propped up on Sif's lap, and with cloth torn from her sleeve she is dabbing at the blood on his beaten face.

'It is Thor I fear for,' she is saying, 'Loki may hate all of us, but his brother is the one he begrudges the most. I fear that the next time we see him, Thor's head will be on a pike.'

'Don't depress me,' Fandral groans, trying to stir.

'Hold still,' she tells him with a ferocity born of worry. 'You were a fool. What did you hope to accomplish, alone and weaponless? You were lucky you even made a dozen steps.'

'It was not entirely for nothing,' Fandral says with a battered smile, and withdraws his hand from is jacket, uncurling his fist to reveal a blade with no handle. Sif takes it and turns it over in her hands, testing its sharpness and sturdiness. 'You see that purplish-red beauty on my shoulder? That's where one of Loki's thralls stuck me with a spear. I took a tumble so hard the point snapped clean from the shaft.'

Volstagg starts to smile, but it dies before fully formed and he asks:

'How did you get it out?'

'With a deal of discomfort,' Fandral replies, a slight grimness coming over his face, 'It was…_not pretty_.'

'You may have saved us all.' Sif grips the spearhead tight, makes eye-contact with Hogun and nods. 'When next the guards come to check on us, we will overpower them and take their weapons. We will only have one chance, but there are four of us – and good fighters all. Freeing the other prisoners will only put them in further danger of being butchered, so our first priority will be to find Thor or the All-Father, or Heimdall – _anyone_ who can challenge Loki in combat. And if luck is with us…' She trails off, letting a glimmer of desperate hope hang between them in the dank underground.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Loads of thank yous to ArainaHaldthin, EvilConcubine, LilaC LioN, THORKISUPPORT, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, StarTrekFanWriter, Guest, Kekeh and wbss21 for reviewing, my Favers and Followers for Faving and Following, and of course my squishy Rue. Please enjoy! :oD**

'I told you to wake up. Don't ignore me, All-Father.' The half-demand, half-plea rouses Odin from his peaceful meditation; he opens his eye to the darkness of his cell, to see Loki standing there, Gungnir in hand, his pale face flushed with a mixture of triumph and agitation. 'I thought you should know,' he spits, 'I paid Thor a visit today. I thought he needed a little lesson, to prove to him the futility of his pitiful sentiment. So I knelt and shed a tear and asked him for his help, and he ate it up without a moment's hesitation – before I hamstringed him. _Finally_ he understood. But _still_ he could not accept it quietly, _still_ he must kick and scream in denial.'

His voice is quick, frenzied – _gibbering_, even. He is pacing frantically before the All-Father, whose gaze follows him back and forth.

'What ails you?'

'What?' Loki snaps.

'You look ill.'

'What relevance is that?' says Loki in disbelief. 'Did you not hear me? I have had it with your precious son. Here I sit upon the throne of the greatest of the Nine Realms, and still he persists in seeing me as a weakling, an inferior. What must I do to put an end to his delusions? Strike his head from his shoulders. I am of a mind to do so.' He stops in the middle of the cell and waves his free hand in an aimless, _helpless_ gesture. 'What should I do?'

'You should cease this insanity before he starts hating you.'

'Oh, he already hates me. You can be assured of that.' Loki suddenly bends down, his hands on his knees as if about to heave.

'What is wrong?' Odin asks, but the only sound Loki makes is a quiet gasping as he quells his nausea. 'You should have heeded my warning – this power is beyond you. Thanos designed the gauntlet only for _himself_, not for any other user, and his strength far surpasses yours. You are over-exerting yourself.'

'It's _nothing_.' Breathing heavily, Loki straightens up again to look him in the eye. 'You underestimate me. _Always_, you have underestimated me. But now – ' he freezes, listening. In the silence, the sounds of a skirmish drift down through the ceiling.

'It would appear an uprising is underway,' Odin remarks. 'Your kingdom is falling apart.'

'It matters not. Thanos is done biding his time. He is ready. He will be here soon.'

'And what will you do once he has claimed the gauntlet? How will your control your legion of thralls then? Are you so blind; can you not see how doomed you are?'

'It is Asgard that is doomed, not I. If I cannot control them, then I will destroy them all. Every last one, I care not who! While I still wear the gauntlet, while I still have the chance…'

'You have taken leave of your senses.'

Unable to bear this any longer, Loki bares his teeth and fires an explosion of crimson energy from his gauntleted fist. It is an earnest but inept attempt; the All-Father takes the brunt of the blast, but the uncontrolled overspill floods the dungeon with brilliant blood-red. There is the unmistakeable sound of a metal link breaking.

Loki is not aware of falling, nor of blacking out. The next thing he sees is the filthy corner of the cell as he lies on the floor. Jerking upright as if burned, he raises his right hand, only to find it bare. The gauntlet is now in the All-Father's grasp as he stands free of his chains.

'You have lost,' he tells the trickster.

'Not quite.' Loki starts to laugh. 'He will come. Thanos. And when he does, even you will be no match for him, All-Father.'

'He needs _you_ to bring him here. How can you do so without the gauntlet?'

'I see what it is you are planning. But you waste your time. The gauntlet cannot be unmade.'

'Perhaps.' Odin looks weary. 'But even this terrifying power has its limitations. The Infinity Gems cannot function outside of the universe in which they originated – _our_ universe.'

Loki does not understand. Odin closes his eye and concentrates. The purple stone – the Space Gem – begins to glow, and the air in the room trembles as the fabric of reality warps.

'_No!_' In one fluid, savage movement, Loki snatches Gungnir and fires a blast of raw energy before plunging the blade into Odin's ribs, but it is too late. The Infinity Gauntlet vanishes in a halo of violet light, transporting itself across worlds – taking part of its wearer with it. The All-Father's right hand rapidly disintegrates into dust, leaving behind nothing but a bloodless stump. '_No!_' Loki screams, and strikes the All-Father to the floor. '_No! Where is it? Where did you send it? Where is it?_'

'It is exactly where it should be – out of reach, out of sight.'

'_Bring it back!_'

'I cannot.'

'_I will kill you if you do not bring it back!_'

'In that case, you must prepare yourself for Hel, because my murder is one thing which Thor will _not_ forgive you for. His wrath will be swift, and your death even swifter.'

The sceptre wavers and sinks in Loki's limp grasp; he steps back, shaking his head.

'No,' is all he is able to say, 'No…'

Turning, he flees, and Odin is left alone in the cell, temporarily too exhausted to move. Maybe a half-hour or more passes before Thor arrives, limping, gripping Mjölnir tight. Behind him is Hogun.

'Father! I feared you dead.' Thor's voice is a mixture of urgency and tearful relief. 'Go on and free the others,' he adds to Hogun, before kneeling beside the All-Father, wincing as he does so as if his legs pain him. 'Something happened, Father. The thralls – they suddenly came to their senses. I don't know why – '

'I disposed of the gauntlet.'

'Your hand!' Thor notices, horrified. 'I will find you a healing stone.'

'The damage is done. This wound is beyond healing stones. Do you know of your mother's whereabouts?'

'We found her. She is safe. Sif is helping her as we speak.'

'Good.' Odin places his remaining hand on Thor's shoulder. 'My son. I am wearied. You should know that Loki is still alive. If you come across him…I leave him to you.'

Thor nods, his features settling into a grim hardness. Taking the king's good arm, he helps his father to rise and together they leave the dungeons.

The gauntlet is gone; Loki has fled for his life. The thralls, freed from their mind-control, are stumbling about, their confusion and shock turning to dismay and horror as they learn what has happened – what they have done. Once Odin has recovered his strength, Thor limps onwards alone, wandering through the aftermath of his brother's reign. His horror is complete – the palace is in near ruin. As his eyes rove over the devastation, he catches sight of something that seems to impact him harder than anything else: the body of a servant struck from behind while fleeing, left out to rot with no consideration of decency. Thor stands looking down upon it. For a long while, he doesn't move.

Eventually he hears the scuffle of a commotion behind him. He knows it is Loki before he even turns to look. The Lie-Smith is being dragged between two guardsmen gripping his arms; upon seeing Thor, something seems to drain out of him, leaving him pale and slack. He looks, suddenly, pathetic.

'We caught the usurper, my prince,' says one of the guards. 'Shall we escort him to the dungeons?'

'Not yet.' Thor takes a deep breath. He still has his princely duties to perform. 'Asgard will heal. We stand strong despite the terrible blow we have suffered.'

Loki is keeping quiet, knowing there is nothing he can say to justify himself, hoping against hope that he will somehow be forgotten…

'Our enemies will not be permitted to breathe the free air of our realm again. Take the traitor Loki to the deepest cell and throw him in. Since it is not within my power to exile him and blight another realm with his presence, we must be content with this.' Thor meets Loki's gaze for a brief moment and adds shortly, 'I never want to see you again.'

'Thor…' Loki utters. Thor turns his back on his brother, kneels down and closes the dead servant's eyes. 'Thor. _Thor!_ Listen to me, I never meant for this to happen, I never meant for it to go this far. Just listen to me, that's all I ask.' Struggling, Loki is hauled away. He manages briefly to break free, and flings himself after Thor as if to cling to him, but is grabbed and restrained. '_Brother!_' A last-ditch attempt to salvage the crumbling remnants of their bond, appealing to a sentiment he knew Thor had always held dear. 'Brother, wait.'

Some distance away, Queen Frigga enters the throne-room, holding her skirts so as not to hinder her hurried walk. Seeing her, Loki suddenly starts screaming.

'_Mother!_'

Frigga has no idea what is happening; all she grasps is that Loki is utterly terrified. Assuming the worst – that Loki is being taken to a place of execution – she rushes forward, but before she can reach him, the doors have already closed, cutting them off.

'What will happen to him?' she demands of the nearby guards. Her gaze falls on her remaining son. 'Where have you sent him?'

Ignoring her, Thor gathers the dead body up in his arms and starts to carry it up the cracked and rubble-strewn steps leading towards the throne. The dais upon which the high seat stands is a throng of urgent activity. He finds the king tending to the injuries of his people. Even one-eyed and one-handed, he has lost none of his aura of authority.

'Lay the fallen over there,' Odin is ordering, 'They can be prepared for burial later. For now, the living take priority. There are too many wounded and not enough healers to tend them…' Thor adds the servant to the row of bodies already laid out. Just as he turns away, the All-Father speaks again. 'My son. Where is your brother?'

'Gone,' Thor struggles to bring himself to acknowledge Loki's existence.

'You killed him?'

'No. He will be locked up indefinitely, with no possibility of parole or pardon. Did I choose wrongly, Father?' he asks, but receives nothing in reply.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Lots of thank yous to kakashidiot, EvilConcubine, FullMetalBlunt, THORKISUPPORT, ArainaHaldthin, LilaC LioN, Aquarinus, Guest, AnonYmous, Loki'd in 221b, angrbodagiantess, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer and cocopuffs jewel for reviewing, and my Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting. Hope you enjoy! :o)**

'I can still do it.'

Loki is crouched on the floor, his head between his knees in an attempt to clear his dizziness. He can feel a bead of sweat crawling down his forehead, until it drops onto the white floor beneath his face. He is speaking to no-one, to thin air. The guards who pass him by on their routine patrol give him a brief glance, but pay no attention to the ravings and mutterings of a lunatic. These are the same men whom he enthralled, forcing them to turn their swords upon their fellow Asgardians – men whose wives and kin have now left them in shame.

'I can still do it! Odin may have put the gauntlet out of our reach, but there are other ways, other weapons. There is still the Tesseract! I know how to wield it, I know its workings…It may be difficult, but it's still _possible_ – no!' He clutches at his hair, rocking backwards and forwards, and snarls through gritted teeth: '_No!_ You are but words. Your threats are empty. You cannot hurt me.'

'_**I cannot?'**_

Agony erupts in every part of Loki's body. His mouth opens but he cannot make a sound; he pushes himself blindly along the floor until he finds a wall, and huddles desperately against it. His hands instinctively rise to shield himself, but there is no assailant. Part of him _knows_ it is only an illusion, but this knowledge does nothing to make the pain any less; when it stops, leaving him shaking and covered in sweat, Thanos whispers:

'_**This is the second time you have failed me. You have repaid my charity with betrayal. Now I will reward you in kind.'**_

'I would never betray you. I am loyal always,' he protests, but there is no reply; the voice in his head has gone. Dishevelled and breathing heavily, he picks himself up off the floor. The cell is a white cube, transparent on two sides; his only view is of the grim, windowless corridor outside, lit by burning braziers. He can only move a few feet in any direction; he is manacled to the wall with the same chains with which he bound Thor. His bed is a mattress with no blanket, probably as a precaution against him strangling himself.

How much time has passed since he was locked up? Surely only a few days – a week at most – but it feels like an age since the voice of the Mad Titan first started intruding in his head. Loki finally cracks. The chains rattle as, in a mixture of terror, frustration and rage, he beats his hands against the glass walls of his cell until his knuckles are bruised, and screams himself hoarse for his brother, for his mother, for Odin…for a second chance. _This is unfair. Why do none of them listen to me? Why should I be denied a chance to explain myself? Don't I deserve mercy as much as anyone else?_

Once he has exhausted himself, he sinks groaning into a sitting position, and it occurs to him that he has no _proof_ of the Mad Titan's involvement; no tangible injuries to show as evidence of his torment; nothing to make anyone understand why he did what he did.For the first time, he wishes bitterly that the torture was real.

Thanos does not speak to him again for the next twelve hours or so. Loki is in a constant state of tension, jumping at every slight noise, unable to sleep for fear of what his nightmares might hold. Sitting with one knee drawn up to his chest, he lifts his head from his folded arms as he hears the sound of bootsapproaching, followed by the scrape of a tray being pushed across the floor. The guards always come in pairs – one of them watching the prisoner like a hawk while the other passes a tray of food through a narrow flap in the wall.

Looking at the thin, watery soup, he feels a pang of both hunger and regret. The quality of his meals and general care have taken a steep decline since the last time he was in prison, now that he is no longer in Thor's favour. He starts to take a drink, but what touches his lips is a foul sludge. He hurls the cup away as if stung, only to see clean water splashing across the floor.

'_**I did not give you permission.'**_

'Leave me alone.'

'_**You are already alone. Abandoned.'**_

Loki grabs the bread instead and opens his mouth to take a bite, but suddenly it's as if his muscles have seized up; he cannot move another inch.

'Leave me _alone_,' he repeats, managing to force the words out through rigid jaws. 'I did my best to do what you wanted. I was loyal.'

But it is a hopeless struggle. Eventually he shoves the tray away and retreats to the furthest corner of his cell, trying to ignore the tantalising smell of food. By now, the guards have finished delivering food to the neighbouring cells, and are returning in the direction they came. This time, he rises to his feet as they pass by, and addresses them in a rasping, cracked voice.

'Guardsmen,' he says, surprising himself by how calm he sounds, albeit weak. The guards turn to face him, probably more out of reflex than any real willingness to listen. Loki knows he has to choose his words carefully, lest they are dismissed as a waste of time. 'I have a…message for my family. Would you be so kind as to pass it on to them?'

'Speak quickly, prisoner,' one barks.

'_**Who will believe you?'**_ Thanos wonders. Loki's stomach is empty, but the voice still manages to make him feel physically sick. Swallowing back the fuzziness in his mouth, he manages a small, polite smile.

'…I would like to speak to my father. There is something important that he should know about…our mutual enemy. What he chooses to do with this information is entirely up to him, but nevertheless…I feel he should know. If he could pay me a visit…I would be most grateful.'

His dignity is in shreds, but still he clings to it, endeavouring to make his entreaty sound like a formal request rather than an abject plea. To their credit, the guards do not sneer at him, but turn and march out.

Loki has done all he can. The wall of his cell has never felt so far, and he isn't able to reach it in time before his legs buckle. Reaching out, he pulls the mattress closer, rests his head on it and lets his eyes drift shut, waiting for whatever is in store for him, nursing the small hope that he might find a way out of this hell-hole he has dug himself into. Sooner or later the All-Father will arrive, and then Loki will be able to tell his side of the story. He feels somehow as though a weight has lifted and he can breathe again.

The guards don't deliver the message.

Odin doesn't come.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: 100 reviews :-D! Lots of thank yous to StarTrekFanWriter, EvilConcubine, Guest, ArainaHaldthin, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, Aquarinus, THORKISUPPORT, FullMetalBlunt, kakashidiot, angrbodagiantess, wbs21 and kurtgleelove for reviewing, my Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting, and my squishy beta Rue for betaing. Please enjoy! :o)**

The days turn to weeks which pass in a nightmare from which there is no awakening: Asgard is reeling, its people are bleeding, and Thor bleeds with them. He barely sleeps or laughs any more; the sunshine does not warm him; the tight knot of anger in his chest refuses to allow him even a moment's pleasure or cheer. Bitterness has sewn its seed deep inside him.

He has lost his brother.

Sometimes, in moments of weakness, he wonders if he was cruel to Loki by refusing him another chance; but the sight of Asgard in pain, and the recollections of Loki's actions remove the last traces of such sentimentality from his heart.

The company of his friends cannot comfort him, but that does not stop them trying. Sif spends a lonely afternoon sitting at his side in silence while he broods. Volstagg ensures that he eats at least a bite of every meal. Fandral and Hogun accompany him on an aimless horse-ride that leads to nowhere and accomplishes nothing. Sometimes Thor grows irrationally impatient towards them through no fault of theirs, only to feel guilty and ashamed for his ingratitude. _They_ are the ones who saved him, after all; who broke into his cell and loosed his chains, and yet he repays them by taking his temper out on them.

One sleepless night, after a long day of indecision, Thor enters the otherwise-deserted throne-room to find his parents in the midst of an argument. He hangs back to allow them their privacy, but is still able to hear their raised voices.

'His fate has already been decided,' Odin is snapping.

'By _Thor_, not by you. You can still lift his sentence.'

'I gave Thor my approval. What is done is done. And a public trial is out of the question. All of Asgard would be calling for his blood, and every council would be rooting for his execution. Loki is safe where he is. Would you have me expose him to the possibility of being beheaded or worse?'

'It does not matter what the people want! What matters is that Loki is treated fairly – '

'He lives,' Odin points out crisply, 'If Thor had meted out _true_ justice, Loki would have died as recompense for the innocent lives he has claimed. But Thor spared him. Is that not enough?'

'In that case, _I_ will go to him,' Frigga declares angrily, 'I will make him see reason. I know he will listen to me – '

'I forbid it. I will not have Loki break your heart and poison your mind with lies.'

'_He is my son!_ I have a right to – '

'He is my son also,' Odin cuts in, 'But he is also a murderer, a usurper, a traitor and a known liar.'

'And so you give up on him?'

'He has given up on himself.'

'But there is still good in him,' the queen insists, 'I know there is.'

She sweeps away, leaving Odin sitting alone on the throne, the stump of his hand hidden beneath his robe. Thor finally approaches. He has only ever known his father as a strong, unbending and unbreakable figure – a pillar for Asgard to stand upon – but now the All-Father looks tired. He looks _old_.

'May I speak with you?' Thor's request is uncharacteristically subdued. 'My mind is in turmoil.'

'You may.' Straightening up, Odin gives his son his full attention. 'What troubles you?'

'Loki,' Thor admits. Odin's eye grows cold. 'I understand if you do not wish to have this conversation, Father. My sorrow is enough, but your own grief I cannot conceive of. If you would rather I never spoke of him again – '

'No. Continue. Loki was a part of our past and a part of our family. That fact must be remembered and borne, no matter how painful. To pretend he never existed would be impossible. What is it you wish to speak of?'

'Before they took Loki away, he...he begged. I know I must harden my heart, but I feel that I...disgraced myself by my ruthlessness.'

'Does this mean you forgive him?'

'_No_.' A spark of vehemence enters Thor's voice. 'I will never forgive him. I _cannot_ forgive him. He has destroyed himself utterly, and destroyed everything around him in the process. It is strange,' he ponders, 'When he first fell from the Bifrost and was lost to us, I missed him with all my heart. Even when I _knew_ he had changed for the worse – grown vicious and cruel, greedy and vengeful – I still longed for my brother back. But now, I am finding it difficult to remember the _good_ things: us laughing together, him playing some petty mischief. It is almost as if our childhood, our happiness, never existed.'

'Before you go any further,' Odin interrupts quietly, 'I will ask you one question, and I want you to answer it as truthfully as you can. If Loki was before you _now_, in this state you describe – pleading and helpless – what would you do?'

Thor mulls over this, making an earnest attempt to view the scenario objectively.

'I would hold him responsible for the crimes he committed, sentence him for high treason and imprison him here on Asgard,' Thor answers, 'That is the only path open to me.'

'Then why this guilt?'

'Because…I did not act as a brother should. And Mother has not forgiven me for it.'

'You acted as a prince.'

'But after I sentenced Loki, I asked you if you thought I had done the right thing. You did not answer.'

'I think you did the only thing you could. Your mother is wrong to judge you for it.'

'Perhaps.' Thor pauses, staring at his hands on his lap. When he next speaks, he changes the subject. 'How fares the realm?'

'We make progress daily. The weapons vault is damaged, but it can be rebuilt, stronger than before. The relics have been salvaged from the rubble and can once again be sealed away.'

'All of them are intact? The Tesseract also?'

'Yes.'

'And the Tesseract is safe from meddling?' Thor growls, 'Loki managed to use it to open a portal from the other side of the universe. How can we be sure that Thanos cannot do the same?'

'Because _I_ created the Tesseract. Its workings are known only to Asgard, not to Thanos. Loki only knew how to use it because he has a knack for knowing things he should not. But enough talk; you look tired. Go and rest.' Thor nods and rises to leave, but as he walks away, a knowing look comes over the All-Father's face, and the king asks: 'There is something else, is there not?'

'Yes.' Thor hesitates. 'I have not slept much of late, but last night I managed to. I dreamt of Loki. He was in a barren realm where no light shone from the heavens and no green things grew from the rocks, and he could not speak.'

'What did he say or do?'

'Nothing. He was just...silent. I said his name but he did not seem to hear me. I woke up feeling ill, as if a chill had passed over me – as if I had been to that dark place myself.'

'It was only a nightmare, brought on by the ordeal you have suffered. Do not let such things trouble you.'

'Of course. Goodnight, Father.'

'Goodnight, my son.'


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This chapter's a bit short. Thank you to kakashidiot, EvilConcubine, Guest, StarTrekFanWriter, keske, Aquarinus, LilaC LioN, FullMetalBlunt, angrbodagiantess and zaylo267 for reviewing, my Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting (sorry I don't know your names D:), and my squishy beta Rue for beta'ing. Please enjoy :o)**

It's not long before Loki begins to forget things. He is pacing in his cell, trying to take his mind off his predicament by recollecting a passage from a favourite book, when he suddenly finds he cannot think of the words. Stopping what he is doing, he struggles to reclaim the stream of information that was running through his head only seconds ago, but finds he cannot even remember the title of the treatise, nor the name of its writer.

Not long after, something similar happens; while gobbling down his supper of bread and soup, grateful that the voice in his head is finally allowing him to eat, he abruptly forgets how to use a spoon. As if the harmless piece of carved wood in his hand is somehow a dangerous and alien object, he drops it in consternation and resorts to drinking the soup straight from the bowl.

That's how it starts. And the dreams of pain soon follow. He can't even weep. His tears burn like acid until he has no eyes left. They grow back long enough for him to see the wreck of his own body – bruises and blood and putrification – only to be blinded again in a pitiless cycle. When he claws at himself to try to scratch away the festering rot, he finds that he has no nails or fingers.

'_**Easy now**_,' the voice soothes him, '_**We can't have you hurting yourself. Let me do it for you**_.'

Even when Thanos is silent, he is never far away; Loki knows the Worshipper of Death is watching his every move and listening to his every thought. But it isn't always the Mad Titan who hurts him. Sometimes it is the Chitauri with their harsh voices and merciless blades. Sometimes it is the humans with their electricity and drug-filled needles. Sometimes it is Thor with his hammer and fists. More than once, it is Laufey with his freezing cold hands and those blood-red eyes that seem to pierce him.

None of it is real, he knows. He is Loki, Master of Magic and Maker of Mischief, a king. He is safe in a cell on Asgard, where his enemies cannot reach him, and somewhere out there in the sunlight and fresh air are his family – a brother who still misses him, a mother who still loves him, and a father who tried to offer him another chance. At first he still holds out hope that Odin might come, or that Thor might change his mind, and he waits in vain, drawing comfort from the knowledge that they still exist. Thanos allows him this consolation for a while, before robbing him of it. Loki wakes up one morning unable to recall the names of his family, even though he can recall their faces as clear as glass, and starts questioning himself. It's not long before he doubts ever being loved, or ever having had loved ones.

Perhaps what makes it even worse is that part of him _knows_ what is happening; he is aware of the gaps appearing in his memory, perforating his sense of who he is. _This is not real_, he tells himself over and over, clinging to this mantra until even it loses all meaning. He positively _yearns_ for a simpler pain, a cruder torment, anything else but this. Everything that defines his identity is stripped from him – either chipped away little by little or torn away leaving gaping holes – until there is not a corner of his mind that Thanos has not ravaged, not a single thought that still belongs to him. Violated in every respect, everything which he has tried in vain to conceal and ignore has been dragged out into the light. Faced with his own fears, what can he do but crumble?

Observing the Lie-Smith from afar, Heimdall watches as Loki lies shackled on the floor of his cell, twitching and squirming in his sleep. Averting his golden eyes at last, he turns once again to the starry void. The cosmos stares back at him, chaos and tranquillity encapsulated in one immeasurable vista of colours and shadows, containing a million things more deserving of his attention than a condemned traitor. He keeps his gaze trained carefully upon Alfheim and Jötunheim, Múspelheim and Earth, until he hears soft footsteps drawing near. Queen Frigga is approaching, resplendent in a blue dress, though it is half-hidden beneath a sombre, dark mourning cloak. Whether she mourns for Asgard, or for Loki, or for both, the Gatekeeper cannot tell.

'Good Heimdall,' she greets him, 'I was told you wished to see me?'

'I do, my queen. I believe there is something you ought to know.' She looks at him expectantly. He pauses. 'I know that you have not been to see Loki.'

'That is true.' There is a tremor of suppressed anger in Frigga's voice. 'I have been banned from his presence. My husband the king forbade me from visiting him. But why do you – ?'

'I have been watching him.'

'And what have you seen?'

'He is wasting away,' Heimdall says simply. 'I will say no more than that, lest I distress my queen.'

'Go on,' Frigga presses, her calm demeanour holding firm. 'I cannot live in ignorance of my son's fate.'

'He does not eat, nor sleep. He neglects himself, and talks incessantly to entities which are not there. These one-sided conversations go on night and day without ever once making sense. I cannot be certain, but I suspect he is losing what sanity he had left.'

Frigga raises one hand to cover her mouth, terrible images of madness filling her mind.

'Why are you telling me this?' There is a slight crack in her voice. 'You are sworn to the king's service. It is not your place to question royal decree.'

'I know. But you are his mother. I do not seek to advise you, only to bring this matter to your attention.'

'I knew it. I knew all along Loki needed me. Thor and his father have broken what they seek to fix. It is no use placing my faith in those who are blind.' Frigga draws a deep breath and lowers her hand, regaining her composure. 'I thank you, Gatekeeper. Now I must take my leave.'


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Lots and lots of thank yous to FullMetalBlunt, EvilConcubine, keske, kakashidiot, THORKISUPPORT, LilaC LioN, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, Guest, T, angrbodagiantess, coco and wbs21 for reviewing, my Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting, and Rue for beta'ing 8-D. Please enjoy!**

'How may we be of service?' Lady Sif asks, as she and the Warriors Three half-kneel on the floor of Frigga's private chambers. The servants have been dismissed to render the room a private refuge, and the queen looks uncharacteristically restless and agitated, wringing her hands subconsciously.

'As you know, the king and his son are currently occupied with mending the damage that was done to Asgard and its people. They have little time for anything else – even matters of family. I have reason to fear…' Frigga hesitates, then begins afresh, 'I have reason to suspect that all is not well with my younger son. This news troubles me deeply, and I want my fears laid to rest. I would have you go to Loki, talk to him, ensure that he is in good health and, if you can, learn what it is that ails him…then report back to me on your findings.'

'My queen, I must object.' Sif is unable to hold her tongue. 'Loki is undeserving of your – '

'Be silent.' The queen struggles not to raise her voice, her temper visibly fraying. 'I had secretly hoped that Thor and his father were right; that stern retribution might reform Loki and that our family might heal. But I see it is not to be. I would visit him myself, but the guards have been given _express orders_ that I am not to speak to Loki, even though he is _my son_. Nor can I send Thor, as it would only cause him pain and distress. I do not turst a guardsman to bring me an honest report. My servants are loyal to me but they lack courage. Therefore, you will go. I know you are Loki's childhood friends – '

The warriors' expressions range from discomfort to displeasure.

' – and will be willing to extend a hand of compassion towards him.'

Sif opens her mouth to protest, but Frigga adds "You _will_ go" before sweeping out of the door. Her departure leaves a tense silence in its wake, finally broken by Volstagg.

'Well, we don't _have_ to go. We can say we saw him and he was fine…'

'It would be treason to refuse,' Sif answers shortly, 'And besides, the queen would see through such a transparent lie.'

'I don't see why we _shouldn't_ go,' Fandral says, 'We would not be doing him a kindness, merely…checking up on him.'

'Indeed,' Hogun agrees. 'And it should not take long.'

After a brief but bitter quarrel, they decide to postpone the visit until late at night, reasoning that if they were being _forced_ to go, they could at least go at a time of their own choosing. At supper, Fandral joins Volstagg in drinking and flirting with the kitchen-maids, but the wine has lost its sweetness and the girls their pretty charms. His mind has returned to a dark place – to the dungeon where he was beaten bloody by Loki's thralls. Despite his best efforts, he cannot shake a feeling of trepidation.

After supper, they head straight from the great hall to the dungeons. To their great relief, they do not meet Thor on the way; he would no doubt ask where they are headed, and none of them can bear the thought of looking him in the eye and lying. Upon arriving at their destination, they are stopped by the warden – a big man with a belt full of keys and a face hewn from rock.

'We've come to see Loki Odinson,' says Sif.

He lets them through, and they are escorted by a group of guards through the jail, heading ever deeper and deeper until they reach a long, shadowy hallway lined by transparent cells on either side. Their interiors are comfortable enough – well-lit and decently furnished. Each houses a prisoner, some of whom approach the glass to watch the passing visitors, while others ignore them. As they near the last cell on the right, its occupant comes into view.

Loki is sitting on the floor, his shackled hands resting in his lap. At first glance he appears..._fine_. There are no bruises from beatings nor stripes from lashings, no cuts or scrapes, no visible signs of any abuse. But as they peer closer, they notice the cracks in the shell. Loki has lost weight. His collarbone is a sunken cave, and his wrists look ready to snap. His hair is torn, and clumps of it are matted and tangled around his fingers, revealing that he has done the damage himself. His shoulders are slumped lifelessly, and he doesn't seem to mind that one of his legs is folded at an uncomfortable angle. His eyes stare blankly and uncomprehendingly at nothing.

'Has he behaved himself?' Fandral asks.

'Aside from the occasional disturbance. He has kept his hands to himself and made no attempts to escape.'

'Good.' After a long pause, as if she can barely bring herself to address him, Sif prompts, 'Loki?'

There is no response. Loki continues to sit there looking desolate.

'…Is he always like this?' Fandral asks

'Most of the time.'

Volstagg notices that there is a plate of food on the floor. It is untouched, and judging by the furry spots of white and green mould, has been there for a while.

'He does not eat?' Volstagg asks.

'We give him food and water three times daily. We do our duty with integrity.' The warden is slightly defensive, as if his sense of honour has been questioned. 'But the prisoner ignores it or otherwise throws it away. Perhaps abject failure kills the appetite.'

'How long has he been this way?'

'Many weeks.'

'It might be a game of his,' Sif says curtly, 'From now on, make sure he eats.' Loki gives an involuntary spasm, as if irritated by an insect's bite. The warriors watch him expectantly, but after a minor twitching fit, he lapses back into his stupor. 'Well, we've looked long enough. If he does not want to acknowledge our presence, so be it.'

They turn to depart. Suddenly there is a loud, bloodcurdling, tortured scream from inside the cell. The prison-guards barely react, but the four warriors startle and cannot resist going back to take another look. Loki is collapsed and struggling on the white floor, shrieking with a franticness verging on hysteria. The chains rattle noisily as he lashes out against nothing in particular.

'Is it a disease?' wonders Volstagg, 'Some…sickness of the mind?'

'More than likely it's a trick,' says Sif, 'Let's go.'

'But what about – '

'We've done what we were ordered to do. We've seen him. Now we can report to the queen and be done with it.'

Once again they start to leave, Sif leading the way. After a dozen paces or so, Fandral stops, carries on walking, then stops again. Volstagg notices and hesitates, looking back at his friend.

'Fandral…?' he says uncomfortably over the muffled sounds of Loki's desperation. Fandral doesn't answer. He isn't sure what makes him go back. Maybe it's the callous indifference of the guards. Maybe it's Loki's screams. Maybe it's the thought of Frigga, waiting anxiously for word on her son. Either way, he finds himself turning abruptly and striding back towards the cell. Sif calls after him but he ignores her.

Inside the cell, Loki's screaming subsides into low, wounded moans, then stops altogether, leaving a dead silence. He has lost consciousness. As Fandral's feet carry him towards that eerie white cell, he feels a note of panic, but it's too late to turn back now.

'Guards!' He raises his voice. 'Orders straight from the crown. Open the cell and free his chains. The prisoner is to be transferred to a – ' he briefly flounders – 'a concealed location. Thor wishes it. Remember, this task must be done in _utter secrecy_. Each of you is bound to silence. Treat these instructions as if they come straight from the prince himself.'

They obey, albeit with a few dubious glances amongst themselves. Fandral starts to feel proud of himself, and flashes a smile at the other three behind the guards' back, half-expecting some congratulations. All he gets are grim stares.

'The prisoner is insensible,' the warden calls over from Loki's shackled, motionless body, 'He must be carried or else dragged.'

Impatiently, Fandral enters. Removing his cloak, he drapes it over Loki's head, effectively hooding him; then with a grunt of exertion hauls Loki up onto his shoulders and trudges back out of the cell, into the hallway, with the condemned traitor on his back. He can feel Loki's bones; there's something unnerving, almost _frightening_ about this shrunken cadaver that used to be Loki.

'How will Thor feel, to find out we went against his wishes – our crown prince and closest friend?' Sif demands in a hushed undertone so the guards don't hear. 'He will think we have deliberately betrayed him.'

'We _are_ betraying him,' Hogun points out sourly.

'I took an oath of honour as a warrior,' says Fandral stubbornly, 'An enemy Loki may be, but I am sure Thor would not want to be kept in the dark about this. He has a right to know everything. And you know what he's like, he's always been blind to Loki's evils.' Nobody stops him as he pushes onwards, but inside, he cannot help but curse himself for his own folly. _I am going to regret this._


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thank you to kakashidiot, THORKISUPPORT, LilaC LioN, Aquarinus, EvilConcubine (twice ;D), FullMetalBlunt, vmvm, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, Guest, StarTrekFanWriter, ArainaHaldthin, angrbodagiantess and TricksterOfPanem for reviewing, my Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting, and my squishy ball of awesomeness Rue for beta'ing.**

'Lay him here,' the queen orders. The room is lit only by the golden candelabra she carries; she sets it aside as the warriors lower the lifeless form of her son onto the bed. Sif shackles one of Loki's wrists to the bedstead before stepping back to let Frigga through. 'Why is he unconscious?'

'When we saw him, he…seemed to be in pain. Yet there was no injury. He passed out soon after.'

'When did he get so thin?' Frigga mourns. 'He's all skin and bones.' Looking worried, she picks up Loki's hand and turns it over to examine his wrist and forearm. 'These scratch-marks – who – '

'They are self-inflicted. And the bruising is from the shackles,' says Sif. 'The guards did not abuse him. He was well-treated.'

'You brought him straight here from his cell?'

'Yes. We thought that you should see him first.'

'And you are sure you were not seen?'

'Yes. We took every possible precaution.'

'Good.'

'Will you tell Thor and the king, milady?' asks Volstagg. Frigga is slow to answer. She covers Loki warmly with furs and makes sure the pillows are plumped up beneath his head.

'No. Not yet,' she decides finally, 'First, Loki and I will speak. Once I have ascertained his true heart and motives, I can plead his case to the All-Father – but until then, I cannot argue on his behalf.' She turns to face them. 'What you did was foolish,' she rebukes Fandral, who looks abashed. 'If Loki is branded a fugitive, you may have put him in more danger than he was already in. But I am grateful nonetheless.' Frigga takes a breath. 'If your deeds are discovered, say that you acted upon my orders; then you shan't be held responsible.'

The warriors nod. Suddenly there is a moan; Loki is attempting to push himself up into a sitting position, but it's as if his limbs are boneless. The warriors and Frigga turn in time to see him slip from the bed and fall to the ground with a painful thump.

'Loki – !' the queen gasps. Without warning, Loki starts to thrash as if in a seizure. Sounds escape his mouth but they are not words. His head bangs loudly and repeatedly against the floor. The fingers of his free hand tear at the manacle on his wrist, trying to pry the metal off. Frigga rushes to his side, but he lashes out at her violently. The expression on his face will haunt her for weeks. 'Loki, stop! What is the matter with him?'

Before they can answer, Loki sucks in a breath and screams in agony. Sif immediately grabs the comforter from the bed and presses it over his mouth, muffling him.

'No – ' Frigga starts to push her away.

'The whole palace will hear him!' Sif whispers. 'Hold him down before he hurts himself or one of us.'

There is nothing they can do but pin him to the floor and wait for it to be over. As Frigga cradles his head and shushes him, Loki's struggles turn silent. He begins to jerk rigidly, and his eyes roll up into his head until only their whites are visible, the episode seemingly reaching a peak.

'_Have you learned your lesson yet, Odinson?' Thor can feel the gentle puff of Loki's breath close to his ear, and the gentlest brush of metal against his skin. He knows what's coming, but is unable to move, only mentally scream in denial. 'I am __**not**__ your brother_.'

As the dagger starts to enter his flesh, Thor wakes with a violent start and involuntary shout, every muscle in his body taut, his widened eyes staring into the darkness for a threat that isn't there. The soft silence amplifies his heavy breathing. The fur covers are damp with sweat. Pushing them away, he swings his legs over the side of the bed. For a while the phantom pain lingers, but as his heart-rate returns to normal it dissipates. Unclenching his fingers, he rests his face in his hands and slowly exhales. _Just a bad dream. Not real. Another lie._

He isn't sure what compels him to seek his mother's company. Perhaps it's a subconscious desire for reassurance. Perhaps it's simply a need to talk to someone. Either way, he heads for the part of the palace where Frigga has taken to isolating herself, separate even from her husband.

It's night-time, and the city is awash with starlight and colour. Most of the palace is abed, but some are still awake, and here and there in the great dark halls and passageways are oases of firelight and mirth, the smell of late suppers and the occasional burst of music – whether the intimate plucking of a harp or the bawdy strains of a drunken chorus. Asgard is healing. Thor is not. Knocking on the door to Frigga's quarters, he receives no answer, and so opens it. He finds his mother awake and on her feet. She looks taken aback upon seeing him.

'Good evening, Mother.' He hesitates. 'Are you busy? If this is an inconvenient time – '

'Come in.'

Thor enters. As if remembering etiquette, Frigga smiles and crosses to the table, starting to pour a cup of water.

'Why are your chambers unguarded, Mother? As I passed through the hallway I saw the sentries patrolling, but not their usual route. When I asked, they said they had been dismissed.'

'That is true. The dismissal was on a whim. I wanted some peace and quiet.'

'Why? Are they disruptive? Loud? They can be disciplined – '

'No, no, but – ' Frigga falters. 'All the same, I wanted solitude.'

'Would you rather I leave?'

'No, stay. It was only a moment's melancholy, I feel better now you are here.' She hands him the cup and he drinks. 'Is there something you would like to talk about? Take a seat.'

'I could not sleep,' says Thor as he complies, 'I needed to…clear my head. I thought time would close these wounds, but my nightmares persist, clinging to me like a disease. Loki. Over and over. Betraying me.'

'Have you been to the healers?'

'Yes, too often. They gave me a medicine to drink before bed, but all it does is dull my mind to the point where I cannot tell dream from reality.'

'I have never known you to have bad dreams.' Frigga sits down opposite him, placing a bowl of fruit between them; Thor plucks a grape and chews it. 'Your brother used to have bad dreams all the time as a child. Do you remember? Monsters under the bed, shapes in the shadows…it used to break my heart to see him scared in the middle of the night. I was so relieved when he outgrew them.'

'I wish you would not call him that,' says Thor abrupty, 'He is not my brother – he was insistent upon the fact, and I have acknowledged it myself. I wish you would do the same.'

'Do you truly despise him?'

'Yes.'

'Thor – ' she briefly covers her mouth to control herself, then continues, 'I love you, deeply. Nothing will ever change that. But for what has become of Loki, what has befallen our family…I want you to know that you are just as much to blame as any of us. And now you have condemned him to a life of friendlessness and despair.'

'What else could I have done?' he exclaims, 'Let him walk free after everything he had put us through?' He seems about to say something else, but checks himself. Lowering his gaze, a sort of grim resignation crosses his face. 'I would tell you to stop tormenting yourself with false hope, but I know that will never happen. I know you will never give up on Loki no matter how far he falls…not that he can fall any further than he already has. You look for love where there is none to be found.'

'How can you have such little faith in him – in me?'

'Because he has shown his true evil, and all of Asgard has suffered for it!' Thor is becoming exasperated. 'Do you care so little for your own realm, your own people? Do you care so little for _me_?'

'Of course I do!' Frigga says defensively. 'But I _know_ there is still a chance, I _know_ Loki can come back to us – '

'But you are _wrong!_' Thor protests, aggravation and frustration momentarily overcoming him. He regrets it almost as soon as the words leave his mouth. Frigga's expression dissolves into one of indignation and pain. 'I am sorry, Mother. That was insolent.'

'Insolent but true?' she challenges him.

'I spoke in anger. Please accept my apologies.'

'But you still believe yourself to be right. Your apology is as hollow as your claims of familial devotion.' In the ringing silence, Thor thinks he hears what sounds like an object falling in the adjacent bed-chamber. Frigga tenses and rises to her feet, declaring with uncharacteristic vitriol, 'I am not in the mood for conversation tonight. You have outstayed your welcome. Please leave.'

Thor knows that pushing the matter will only make things worse; he masks his own hurt beneath a neutral expression, returns the half-empty cup to the table and nods his goodbye.

'I will go now. But I will come again in the morning to apologise.'

'Do not bother. You have plenty of things to trouble you already, why should your family be one of them?'

Thor takes this blow unflinchingly and responds:

'Goodnight, Mother. I am sorry I disturbed you so late. Sleep well.' Turning, he leaves. He does not look back, but before he is out of earshot he hears the bed-chamber door opening and shutting.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Loads of thank-yous to EvilConcubine, THORKISUPPORT, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, LilaC LioN, Aquarinus, Guest, TricksterOfPanem, FullMetalBlunt, Guest, Guest and angrbodagiantess for reviewing, my Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting, and Rue for being her usual squishy self. Hope you enjoy! :o)**

Once the Chitauri have left him alone – during the silence broken only by his snuffling as he tries to breathe through a bloody nose – Thor comes. Loki is lying on a bed with his hands somewhere above him. Hearing familiar boots treading across the floor, Loki doesn't move, but his respiration rate quickens. He feels that familiar ache behind his ribs, that tremulous shrinking between his legs. Fear. The bed dips as Thor sits on its edge. His face is calm and expressionless as he waits for Loki's reaction.

This is what Loki fears the most. These times when he _remembers_, with merciless clarity, who he is and what he has done – and why he has been abandoned. The truth is more agonising than the lies. It's times like these that he'd rather not know anything. He'd rather forget.

'Do you remember how it felt?' Thor asks, his voice level and controlled,'To see the humans panicking and fleeing from the sight of their god-king? To see Asgard and all its high lords brought to their knees by your might and guile? That thrill of control, knowing that you wielded the greater power?' Thor leans closer until they are face to face. 'Do you remember how it felt to have that snatched from your grasp? Your throne pulled from under you?'

Loki realises he can speak. He tries to, and his lips crack as they move, mouthing soundlessly before he manages to produce any noise. '…Sorry.' And he knows that's all he can say, because no self-absolving rationalisations, no lies, no excuses will ever justify what he has done. '…Sorry…'

'For what?'

'…For…' Loki knows Thor is playing with him, and feels a sudden, overwhelming urge to cry; but he must answer nonetheless, '…everything.'

'For the pain you caused?'

Loki tries to say Yes, but his voice fails him; instead he nods. When he is able, he utters:

'…Please. Make it stop.'

' "Stop"?' Thor's hand closes around Loki's neck and jerks him from the bed with such force the restraints break. 'You want me to stop?' Loki is dropped to the floor wheezing. He is free, but his limbs flop uselessly like a fish on dry land. 'Do you remember what you did to him – that mortal you snatched from the crowd?'

A searing, crippling pain blots out Loki's vision. Blinded, he clutches at his face, and a few seconds later feels warm blood running down his cheeks, through his fingers. All he can do is scream.

'Kneel,' his brother orders him.

_No._

_Not my brother._

_Thanos._

From somewhere, Loki finds the willpower to try and save himself. He turns over onto his back and starts to drag himself along the ground, crawling blindly in the direction he knows the door lies in. He doesn't care if he leaves this room on his belly. All he wants is to get away. His fumbling hands come up against something, and his insides seem to shrivel as he recognises it as Thor's leg.

'I _said_ – ' Thor grabs him and drags him upright ' – _**kneel**_.' Loki is flung to his knees. His face hits the floor and he feels his teeth almost pierce through his lower lip, filling his mouth with the sour metallic tang of blood. His strength deserting him, he obeys, curling forwards unresistingly until he can descend no further.

'Loki, no.'

His chest is touching his knees. If he could bury himself in the floor, he would.

'Loki, stop. It's alright.'

His eyes are working again. He forces their lids open though the light dazzles him, and sees that the floor on which he is huddled is golden and gleaming. The Chitauri cave is gone, and so are his wounds; the only pain he feels is from his bitten lip. Inexplicably, he is being cradled in his Mother's arms; her soft touch cools him.

'Loki, my love. There's nothing to fear. You don't have to be afraid.'

Loki doesn't doubt that this is another illusion. He struggles. A different pair of hands, much rougher than Mother's, restrain his arms. Unable to process what is happening, he eases into darkness.

Frigga wipes her eyes dry and says:

'Help me lift him.'

Sif wordlessly obliges. The Warriors Three are gone; Frigga has sent them away despite their offers to stand guard outside. Only Sif has been allowed to stay after practically pleading that the queen does not spend the night alone with the trickster. Together they carry the unconscious Loki back to the bed. The contents of the bedside table have been knocked over, and Sif busies herself with righting them. There is a slightly accusatory edge to her silence, and Frigga realises the warrior has not forgiven her for driving Thor away. Frigga's heart aches even thinking about it, but her resolve remains unshaken. _Nothing will come between me and Loki. Not even Thor._ "Look at him, can you not see how he has suffered?" she wants to cry out, but she knows that she is alone in loving Loki.

Their vigil lasts through the night; the candles eventually burn out, leaving the room in semi-darkness. Once or twice Loki jerks in his sleep, but he doesn't wake again. When the sun is high, the servants come bearing wash-water for her bath, but Frigga has pre-empted them – she meets them at the door, informs them that she plans to spend the morning in meditation, and asks that she not be disturbed. Once they are gone, she resumes her place at Loki's bedside.

'Will you not go down to breakfast?' Sif asks.

'I have no appetite.'

'My queen, you have not been publicly seen at the All-Father's side for far too long now. Many are beginning to wonder if all is well between you.'

'Let them wonder. None of it matters to me. How _can_ it matter when my son is like this?' Frigga clasps Loki's unresponsive hand.

'But it may awaken suspicion. If the king decides to seek you out, there will be no hiding Loki.' When Frigga doesn't respond, Sif presses, 'My queen, why do you not go to the All-Father and tell him of what we have learned? That Loki's mind is sicker than we had thought?'

'What _proof_ have I?'

'You need none. Loki's condition will speak for itself.'

'His "condition"…That he does not feed himself? That he has nightmares? All of these things may be feigned, none provide concrete evidence._ I_ believe them because my heart knows them to be true! But no-one else will. Odin is determined to believe that Loki is a liar in every instance…He will take Loki away and I will never see my son again. Thor is blinded by – '

'Try not to be so harsh on Thor,' Sif can't help but interject. 'It is not his fault. Loki was always dear to him, and to be betrayed so cruelly…'

'…Yes. Yes, of course.' Frigga presses a hand to her pounding forehead and draws a deep breath to steady herself. 'I keep thinking that I could've prevented this. Loki cried out to me for help, but I, his own mother, failed to protect him. And now he is – _insane_…'

'Do not entertain such thoughts,' Sif advises her.

Exhaling, Frigga straightens out her crumpled skirts.

'Very well. I will be seen at breakfast today. I will sit at Odin's right hand and pretend there is no rift between us, then I will excuse myself as early as possible on the grounds of low appetite. Can I trust you to keep Loki safe and hidden?'

'You can.' Sif nods.

'Thank you.'

Not wanting to waste another heartbeat, Frigga departs. The palace is awake and bustling, and people bow their heads in respect as she passes by, but she barely notices. The distance between her chambers and the banquet hall seems to have doubled – before she has even arrived, she finds her mind already back with Loki, wondering _What if?_, terrified that something might happen while she is not there. As the sound of a feast in progress draws near, she senses someone behind her, and looks around sharply to see Thor standing over her.

'Mother.'

'Thor.' She stands only half-facing him, hoping to dissuade him from making conversation. He doesn't take the hint. 'What are you doing hiding behind a pillar?'

'I was waiting for you.' He steps forward. His expression is subdued and his eyes downcast. 'I wish to apologise for my behaviour last night. I understand why you…still care for Loki.' He makes an effort to not show distaste. 'I cannot pretend to share those feelings, but it was wrong of me to condemn you because of them. I know the loss of Loki pains you greatly, and it was never my intention to add to your pain.'

'Would you forgive Loki if I asked you to?'

'No.'

'Then you will continue to cause me pain.'

Thor sets his jaw firmly.

'On this matter, we must agree to disagree. But we should not hate each other for it. Do you forgive me?'

Looking at Thor's earnest expression, a bitter smile slips across Frigga's mouth before she can control it.

'I feel like you're a boy again and you've gotten into trouble. Very well; come here.' Rather stiffly, she reaches up one arm to enfold his neck, an embrace which he returns warmly. In those few seconds of closeness, Frigga is caught by a sudden, irrational paranoia that Thor may somehow smell Loki on her. As she pulls back from him, she notices that he is clad for the outdoors. 'Where are you headed?'

'For a horse-ride. Since medicine gives me no relief, perhaps fresh air and the company of my friends will.'

'Be careful,' she admonishes him out of reflex.

'Mother, since when has a fall from horseback bothered me?' He laughs, less from amusement and more from relief that they have reconciled.

'Since you hurt your arm as a child.'

'That was long ago.'

'All the same, look after yourself. Now be off with you.'

Thor leaves with a smile. Frigga watches him go, torn between worry and guilt, knowing that he will search for Sif in vain. Realising she has dallied too long, she enters the banquet hall, where Odin All-Father is already waiting for her.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Lots of thank yous to reviewers kakashidiot, EvilConcubine, LilaC LioN, Guest, THORKISUPPORT, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, GreenLoki (thirteen times :D!), angrbodagiantess, FullMetalBlunt, EmbertheAngel, Guest and Sorafrosty for reviewing, my Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting, and, as always, Rue. Please enjoy! 8)**

Frigga manages to smile as she approaches the high table and takes her seat at Odin's side.

'Husband,' she greets him. The scent of the food on her plate rises to meet her, but any hunger dissipates at the memory of Loki's gaunt face and stark ribs.

'You did not come to our bed last night.' He poses it more as a question than a statement.

'I wanted to spend the night alone.'

'Are you displeased with me?'

'No. Why should I be?' she replies, plucking a bunch of grapes from the nearest fruit-bowl.

'There could be myriad reasons.'

'I have been occupied elsewhere.'

'I see.' The All-Father's tone is neutral. 'What with?'

'Matters of my own.' She is unable to keep an edge of sharpness from her voice. For a while they continue to eat breakfast in silence, smiling occasionally at the laughter and merriment filling the banquet hall. Frigga begins to hope that she may escape from this ordeal without arousing suspicion, before Odin speaks again.

'What is it you are hiding from me?'

'Nothing.' But the king's gaze continues to search her face. Putting down her spoon and fork, Frigga places her hand lightly upon the bandaged stump of his wrist and adds, 'Odin. I have been at your side for countless ages. I have been your truest companion for longer than Thor has been alive. Why now do you doubt me?'

'Because you have a habit of allowing your judgment to be clouded by feelings.'

'Is that so bad?'

'When the responsibility of ruling a kingdom rests on your shoulders, yes. It is.'

Frigga removes her hand.

'I cannot help having a heart,' she replies in an undertone.

He considers her for a moment, then turns away.

'Leave us,' Odin orders the entire table. There is a split-second of confused hesitation, and then the hall is filled with the hurried scraping of chairs, the chatter of conversation dying away into silence. For the longest and most painful ten seconds of her life, Frigga sits motionlessly. Once the hall has been vacated, the doors close with a foreboding boom. Not knowing what else to do, she carries on eating. The All-Father turns to face her. 'I ask you once more. What are you hiding from me?'

'Nothing. That is the truth.' She gets up to leave, but has barely taken three steps before he enquires:

'You are harbouring Loki, are you not?' His eye is steady upon her. When she does not reply, he adds, 'I suspected as much. An hour ago the warden came to inform me that Loki had been removed from his custody. He had been sworn to secrecy, but nonetheless felt duty-bound to bring his fears to me.'

'It was not their fault.' Frigga finally speaks. 'Sif and the Warriors Three. I ordered them to do it.'

'Where is Loki hiding?'

'In the one place where he will feel safe: at my side – in my chambers.'

'Where he is unguarded? Where he may walk free on a whim?'

'You do not understand. He is unwell – '

'Unwell enough to warrant a release?'

'You are not listening to me!' Frigga protests. 'He is weak, half-starved – '

'I have heard you. Any illnesses can be treated by a healer in the safety of the dungeons. There is no need for you to pamper him.'

'You have no pity in your heart. You and Thor both – neither of you are willing to give Loki a chance. Thor point-blank refused to even consider…if he would only come to his senses and _see_ – '

'Thor _cannot_ know of this.' Odin stands up. He speaks as a king now – authoritative and implacable. 'This must be handled with care if Thor is to be spared the knowledge that he has been betrayed by his own mother. I will not risk that. We will pass this off as a marital dispute.'

Frigga can think of nothing to say – every counter-argument seems to die before it can reach her lips, lost in a mire of rising panic. After a pause, the All-Father continues:

'Loki will not be punished – I know this was not his doing, and I will not hold him accountable for your actions. I will have him quietly returned to his rightful place. I will ensure that his needs are met, and that he is provided with every comfort a prisoner may enjoy. . Thor – and the people – will be none the wiser. What more can you ask of me?'

'But he belongs with me.'

'No,' Odin raises his voice slightly. 'He belongs where Thor put him – in a cell where he poses no threat to anyone. In favouring one son, you have neglected the other. Loki tortured Thor – systematically and cruelly. Have you forgotten that?'

'Of course not!'

'Then why do you treat Loki as an innocent child?'

'Because I believe that he is repentant!'

'You believe, you _believe_, but you do not _know_ – '

'I know _my own son_ well enough to recognise when he is hurting!' Frigga snaps.

'What do you propose we do, then? Or have you not thought this far ahead? What is your plan?

Frigga draws a deep breath to suppress her anger.

'To _help_ Loki. That is all I want.'

'What you _want_ is not always what is best for Asgard.'

'How can you care so little?'

'You think I do not _care?_' The All-Father raises his voice slightly. 'Loki should have died, by rights, for his horrendous crimes and acts of war – for threatening the lives of not only innocents, but his own mother and brother. Instead he was allowed to live in relative comfort. Is that unmerciful?'

'How dare you.' Her voice is stiff, yet trembling with emotion. 'How dare you ask me to turn my back on my own son. You ask me to cast aside my motherhood, but I cannot. You may have forgotten what it means to hold a child in your arms, to have them trust you completely, to be the bright pillar of their world shielding them from shadows and night-terrors – but I have not. If you attempt to take Loki from me, I will fight you with every shred of power the Vanir blessed me with. And if you succeed – if you take my child from me – then I will hate you in equal measure.'

With that, she stalks out, and this time Odin makes no attempt to stop her. He watches her until the doors close behind her, leaving him standing alone in an empty hall.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Lots of thank yous to EvilConcubine, GreenLoki, kakashidiot, FullMetalBlunt, Guest, anonymous, LilaC LioN, THORKISUPPORT, keske, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, TricksterOfPanem, angrbodagiantess, Guest and The Psychotic Queen for reviewing, my Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting, and Rue for beta'ing. Please enjoy! 8D**

Frigga cannot help but shut the door harder than necessary as she re-enters her bed-chamber. Sif is still keeping watch by Loki's side; looking up from his sleeping form, she sees the expression on the queen's face and immediately asks:

'What has happened?'

'Odin knows. He _knows_.'

'What will he do? Is he coming for Loki?'

'Not yet. Soon he will take action – I know that much. But whether or not he will give Loki a chance, I have no idea.'

'What about Thor?'

'My husband hopes to keep it a secret. But if Thor does find out…we cannot expect him to let it pass.' Taking a seat at Loki's side alongside Sif, she adds, 'How has he been?'

'The same as he was before you left. Unchanged.'

'He has not stirred?' Frigga presses. Sif shakes her head and the queen sighs. 'If he does not wake before nightfall, one of us must go to the healers for a potion – a stimulant or some such…You look tired yourself. You should get some sleep.'

'I can keep watch for at least another day,' Sif assures her.

'I saw Thor on my way through the palace,' Frigga remembers. 'We spoke a little before he had to leave. I think he may be looking for you…'

She tells Sif of what passed between her and Thor. The two of them converse in hushed tones as if they are sitting by Loki's deathbed. An hour passes undisturbed – a single, blessed hour of peace and quiet – before they hear the ante-chamber door opening. Tensing, Frigga heads for the door, ready to intercept the intruder; but finds herself face to face with Odin. In his hand is Gungnir.

'May I see him?' he asks without preamble.

'That depends. If you mean to harm him, then you will not cross this threshold.'

'My intentions are peaceful.'

She lets him through. Sif has one hand on the handle of her knife; seeing Odin, she quickly releases it and kneels. If Odin feels anything upon seeing Loki's comatose, emaciated body, he conceals it excellently.

'How is he?'

'As you see,' Frigga replies stiffly. 'He has been asleep all night and morning. He woke once but was incoherent.'

The king puts Gungnir aside, resting it against the bedpost, and takes Loki's hand to check his temperature and pulse. The pale skin has refused to be warmed by the firelight, but beneath the All-Father's touch begins to normalise.

'He is not asleep,' he corrects Frigga, 'He is awake but unaware. His mind is in another place entirely.'

'A trance?'

'Perhaps.'

'What can be done?'

Without moving his gaze from Loki's unconscious face, Odin requests softly:

'Please leave us. I need silence.'

For a long minute Frigga hesitates, then reluctantly withdraws, motioning for Sif to follow, which the warrior does unquestioningly. The door closes behind them and stillness settles in the room. Odin places his hand on Loki's pallid forehead. Gradually his breathing slows to a near-standstill. He can feel a dim, vague sense of discomfort and unease emanating from Loki. Delving deeper, he seeks to form a lucid connection with Loki's mind, but what he finds is an alien presence.

'_**All-Father**_,' Thanos greets him.

'Thanos,' Odin acknowledges.

'_**You do not sound surprised?**_'

'There is little that can surprise me. For how long have you plagued Loki's dreams?'

'_**Long enough**_.' He can practically hear Thanos' smile. '_**It is not only his dreams I haunt. I shadow his every waking moment**_.'

'What poison have you whispered in his ear?'

'_**Would you like to see?**_'

The bed-chamber vanishes and is replaced by the cold, metallic walls of a Midgardian cell, little bigger than a box. Loki – or a pale, bloodied, battered shadow of Loki – is huddled in the corner, knees drawn tight and trembling against his chest, clinging to his legs. "_Hungry_", he whispers. Realising he is not alone, he lifts his head, ragged and greasy hair parting. Bruises outline the hollows and contours of Loki's face, and his eyes are a bottomless gulf of hopelessness. Odin extends his hand to him to help him up, but Loki doesn't take it.

'Come with me,' Odin orders, 'I will take you out of here.'

'…No, you won't.' There is no rancour in Loki's voice – only resignation.

'I will.'

But Loki isn't listening, slowly shaking his head.

'You're not real…'

'I am as real as you are, and I have come to free you. You can trust me. I am not Thanos.'

'_**He has no ears for you, only me**_,' the Mad Titan gloats, '_**I can cause him pain when I wish**_…'

On the bed, Loki moans in discomfort, almost breaking the All-Father's concentration.

'…_**But then, I am not unrefined – I can pass unnoticed when it suits me. Your queen heard my voice telling her you were an enemy and thought the words were her own – she never even suspected for an instant**_…'

'For what purpose? What use is this torture? You must know that Loki is useless to you, and tormenting him gains you nothing. The Infinity Gauntlet is long gone and cannot be recovered. Imprisoned and incapacitated, how can he possibly be of service?'

'_**I have no interest in his services. He has been an amusing diversion – nothing more**_.'

'There must be an ulterior motive.' Odin is still taking in the sight before him. Loki's lower lip is split almost in half. His arms and knees are scratched to pieces, and there is blood beneath his nails. His ripped and threadbare clothes do little to hide the worst of his injuries.

'_**Perhaps you can ascribe one. Consider this recompense for your past offences – robbing me of my gauntlet and banishing me to the Chitauri's rock**_.'

'Those things you deserved. You were a threat to the Nine Realms, and could not be allowed to continue or your path – just as you will not be allowed to destroy my son.'

'_**Your son?**_' A mocking chuckle. '_**He is no child of yours – merely a token with which to buy yourself further glory, and to prove that Odin All-Father is a generous and charitable king even to his enemy. And what did your charity gain you? A traitor in your house and a knife in your back. See how easily the Liesmith bows to me? Your pity is wasted on this weak, selfish creature. Once I was inside his mind, he put up no resistance. In his hurry to obey and grovel and avert his own doom, he spared not a single thought for his own loved ones**__._'

'Loki's failings are not my concern at this moment. Your game has gone on long enough. Release your hold on him, and on my wife; leave Loki forever. Or else I shall drive you out.'

'_**Why?**_'

All of a sudden Loki is cowering back from him, pressing himself against the wall of the metal box. Odin takes a step forward, eliciting a panicked sob. He realises why; looking down at his hands, he sees that he has two, and that they are not his own. They are _Thor's_. The dark chasm of Loki's eyes is filling up, overspilling with fear and pleading.

Calmly, without breaking away from Loki's gaze, Odin replies:

'Because he is my son.'

'_**You think to challenge the Worshipper of Death? What are you but a stubborn old man, the prime of his life long behind him and the golden age of his rule nearing its close?**_'

'Your arrogance has been your downfall in the past. You should know better than to underestimate me. I defeated you once and I can do so again.'

'_**Spare yourself the struggle, Borson. There is nothing you can do**_.'

'Regardless…I shall try.'

The illusion dissipates. He is once again standing in Frigga's bed-chamber, his hand upon Loki's damp forehead. Before he can recollect himself enough to move, Loki's eyes open and meet his; he grabs Odin's wrist with unexpected strength, and through the shining trails of tears and sweat, like a skull's deathly rictus, smiles Thanos' smile.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Welp, my laptop had a meltdown and I had to get a new computer, thankfully didn't lose anything important (i.e. fanfics). Lots of thanks to reviewers kakashidiot, GreenLoki, FullMetalBlunt, The Psychotic Queen, EvilConcubine, Guest, Aquarinus, LilaC LioN, Guest, coco, angrbodagiantess, THORKISUPPORT and ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer for reviewing, my Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting, and Rue for betaing. 8)**

'It has been far too long since I've seen you in the flesh, All-Father,' Loki greets him in a hoarse whisper, but it is Thanos' words which issue from his mouth. 'You are far weaker than I last remember.' The grip on Odin's hand has become like a vice, but Odin doesn't pull away.

'I assume you have a proposition to make, as you went through all this trouble to speak to me,' he says.

'You assume correctly.' There is a pause as Loki's body fails to keep up, his chest jumping arhythmically as he struggles for breath. 'Cede Asgard to me, along with the weapons you have hoarded over the millennia, and I will leave Loki. In exchange for your son's life, you will lose your realm, your people, your throne and your power. That is my bargain.'

The All-Father does not answer, his gaze preoccupied with Loki's face, that sickly countenance animated by an alien mind, yet still inherently lifeless. A broken puppet.

'Alternatively, I could end him right now, if you would prefer,' Thanos offers, curving Loki's mouth into a smile, 'Snuff out the last of his sanity. I could make him take his own life. I could make him believe it is _you_ killing him.'

'Why would any of these options be considered _preferable_?'

'Because all would be quicker than leaving him to waste away. To rot until there is nothing left and his body lives on, bereft of spirit, without a mind or a consciousness. A hollow shell. Would you wish that on Loki? Would you wish that on his mother?'

'Consider these proposals wasted on me. When I give up the throne of Asgard, it will be in my own time, and to Thor only. He alone will succeed me as a king.'

'Very well,' Loki wheezes. Often his voice breaks completely and all that comes out is a strained rasp of air. 'Know then that I am coming for you. Everything that you love, I will destroy. I have started with your children. They and the Nine Realms are but pieces on a gameboard.'

'When may I expect your presence?'

'Oh, in good time. I wish to savour this victory – it simply would not do to rush it.'

Outside in the ante-chamber, Frigga and Sif wait in apprehensive silence. The queen listens close to the door, but can hear nothing except the soft crackle of the fireplace.

'How long has it been?' she asks the warrior.

'Near an hour.'

At that moment, both of them hear a clatter from within.

'What was that?' Sif whispers.

Frigga recognises it as Gungnir being knocked to the floor. Unable to wait any longer, she opens the door in time to see Loki lurch from the bed, his clenched fist driving into Odin's face. It takes Frigga a second to see the metal between Loki's fingers.

'No!'

Rushing forwards, she separates them violently, the blade tearing free from Odin's skull. Grabbing her son's hands, she tries to wrestle the weapon from his grip, and only then does she realise that Loki's eyes are rolled up into his head. The dagger dissipates into golden smoke as he collapses back onto the pillows with a moan, insensible. Odin sways and seems to regain awareness of his surroundings. Every line of his body spells exhaustion; breathless, he grasps the bed-post as he sinks to the floor.

'My love!' Frigga tries to catch him before he falls. His left eye is now blind – an ugly, open wound, dark red against the white hair and golden robes.

'What's going on?' Sif cries out behind her. 'Is he alive?'

'Yes.' Frigga's hands are upon Odin's breathing chest, assuring herself that his heart still beats a steady rhythm. 'He sleeps. He will wake again, do not fear. Pass me that cloth.' Already the external wound has healed; his eyelids rest closed, concealing the damage within. There is only a little blood on his face, which Frigga wipes away before it has a chance to dry.

'Shall I summon the guards?' Sif is already heading for the door.

'Wait. When word of this spreads, there will be confusion. Amid that furore, Loki will be persecuted.'

'Should he not be?' Sif casts a seething glance in Loki's direction, failing to hide her disgust. 'He attacked our king…'

'Out of fear: the same fear that gripped him last night. A person in the grips of madness cannot be held responsible. But how will this look – Thor – what will Thor think? He will kill Loki, beyond doubt. At the very least, remove him from my care.'

'What should we do?'

Frigga stares about her as if hoping to find an answer in the semi-darkness; part of her is still coming to grips with the turn things have taken. Gradually a semblance of a plan presents itself.

'First, go and find your friends – Volstagg and the others – and bring them here. They went riding with Thor but they should be back soon. Take Loki and hide him somewhere safe. Then fetch Thor. After that, the news may be publicly broken.'

'Should Thor not be told _first?_ His father is – '

'Do as I say.'

Sif leaves. An overwhelming wave of sickness envelops Frigga, her throat tightening and stomach threatening to upend itself. Finding the king's hand, she clutches it tightly, willing his strength into herself.

'Wake,' she whispers, 'Don't leave us now', though she knows it is no use. The nausea passes as quickly as it came, and her strength returns. An indeterminable period of time passes, during which she does not leave her husband and son. Finally the Warriors Three arrive. They ask no questions. Loki is carried away. Before long, she hears Thor's hurried approach and his voice calling urgently:

'Mother, what has happened? Sif said there had been a terrible accident – ' Entering and seeing the scene, he lets Mjölnir drop to the floor. 'Father – ! Is he dead?'

'No. He still lives. It is the Odinsleep,' Frigga responds as he joins her in kneeling beside Odin's motionless body.

'But why now?' Thor glances around the chamber as if expecting to see some sign of a struggle or fight. 'What happened? Did you see?'

'No. He came to speak with me…when my back was turned, I heard him collapse, and by the time I reached his side...' she trails off.

'But he was strong – his health was not failing him.'

'Sometimes it comes without warning. Predictions are not always accurate.'

'Perhaps we should not be surprised. After Loki's coup, and everything that happened before…it is no wonder he is weary. I only wish he had given us warning, but perhaps he did not want us to worry.' In bitter frustration he exhales and rubs a hand over his forehead. 'This has befallen us at the worst time. Asgard needs him – '

'Yes. Asgard needs its king.' Wiping her eyes dry, Frigga reaches for Odin's sceptre. Thor doesn't resist as she presses Gungnir into his hands, his fingers closing automatically around the smooth, unfamiliar gold, so different from Mjölnir's leather-bound, battle-weathered handle. 'As Loki is no longer eligible for the throne, you are your father's only lawful heir. The line of succession falls to you. Until Odin awakens, Asgard is yours.' She briefly lowers her head. 'My king.'

Thor is struggling to process this past his sense of denial. He rises abrupty, as if to distance himself from her.

'But Mother…I…'

From the pain in his face, she knows what he wants to say: _I am not ready. This is not what I want_. She tries to soften the blow.

'I know it is short notice. But it is what you have been raised for. You are not as unprepared as you think you are,' she consoles him, 'Be strong.'

The guards are arriving, sent by Lady Sif. Thor stands lost before realising he has no choice in the matter; setting his jaw firmly, he adjusts his grip on Gungnir to a more comfortable position. Frigga moves aside to allow the All-Father to be carried away; she holds his hand until she has to let go. Thor comes up behind her and places his arm around her.

'Are you alright, Mother?'

'Don't worry about me,' she replies. As he gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and she smiles at him to mask her disquiet, both of them feel utterly alone.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Loads of thank yous to EvilConcubine, FullMetalBlunt, GreenLoki, Sukuangtou, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, THORKISUPPORT, LilaC LioN, Guest, angrbodagiantess, Guest, cocopuffs jewel and kakashidiot for reviewing, my Alerter for Alerting, and the ever-squishy Rue for beta'ing 8)**

Thor has never realised how uncomfortable a throne can be. He wonders how Father managed it with such patience and unflappable composure – the long hours of sitting and listening to the people's grievances without ever giving less than his full and genuine attention. _Perhaps I was never fit to be king_, he ponders, _Is this really what I spent my life craving? What Loki hungered for so badly it drove him to evil? A throne to sit on and the weight of the Nine Realms on my shoulders?_

As daylight gradually brightens the pillared throne-room, Thor breathes deep of the early-morning air and listens to the sounds of Asgard awakening – the bustling in its gleaming streets, the cries of its horses and livestock. He is sitting with Gungnir in one hand and Mjölnir in the other; alone except for the silent, statue-like sentinels. Frigga, as far as he knows, is resting; he spent the darkest hours of the night sitting at her side before leaving her asleep.

It is with a desire for companionship and gaiety that he summons his friends to the throne-room. After a considerable wait, only the Warriors Three enter, with Lady Sif nowhere to be seen.

'My friends!' he greets them cheerfully, striding down from his dais to meet them, but a short distance from him they halt and kneel. 'Come, my friends, I am unchanged! I may be king now but I am still the same Thor I have always been…the same friend you have always known. Do not make me feel less like myself.' They stand up, and he claps Hogun on the shoulder. 'But where is Sif? It is not like her to remain abed at this hour. Do not tell me you all forgot to bring her.'

'We're not sure where she is,' says Fandral uncomfortably.

'Well, let's spread out and find her!' Noticing the looks on their faces, Thor's smile drops slightly. 'What is the matter?'

'A better question would be: what good fortune has befallen you, to put you in such high spirits?' Fandral jests.

'How else should I be? Did you think to find me wallowing in gloom?' Thor laughs. In a slightly more sober tone he adds, 'It may seem strange to wear a smile on my face, but we must carry on the best we can, must we not? And kingship is no call to be miserable; it comes with its perks, after all. Such as _this_ – ' he indicates the sceptre. 'In truth, I am unsure how to wield it to its fullest capacity. Father never had cause to shed blood with it in my presence…and it seems such a slender weapon in my hands…'

'Does anyone know when the All-Father will wake?'

'No,' says Thor heavily, 'Mother says it is impossible to guess. But the situation is not so dire,' he adds, trying to console both them and himself, 'Asgard is at peace; we are not at war; there is no peril or threat that I must face alone. And moreover, it will not be permanent. Father will awaken. And I still have Mother should I ever need advice or support – not to mention my friends.'

'So you and the queen are friends again?' asks Volstagg.

'We are.'

'That's a relief.'

'It is.' Thor hesitates. 'You…_knew_ that she and I had quarrelled? How?'

'Oh, nothing,' the warrior blusters, 'It's not important. We just happened to overhear…the guards, gossiping. What's more important is – '

'There were no guards present that night. My mother dismissed them.'

'Come, let's not quarrel.' Fandral attempts to calm the waters. 'The All-Father still lives, Asgard is in one piece, and not even our dear Sif's absence can dampen this fine weather! Let's – '

'No. You are keeping something from me. I can see it in your faces. What has happened? Is this something to do with Loki?'

'What put that idea in your head?' Volstagg cries.

'Because every misfortune that has blighted my life thus far has been Loki's doing. Tell me, is he involved?' They remain silent. 'Mother has been to visit him, hasn't she,' Thor concludes. 'And you aided her. I _knew it_. She was expressly forbidden, but still she insisted on – '

'You are mistaken,' Fandral interjects. 'The queen has not visited Loki. At least not to our knowledge,' he adds hastily.

'You cannot be sure of that. She may have secret ways, or the guards may have let her through out of sympathy…' Thor inhales deeply to calm himself, and with gritted teeth decides: 'I will go to Loki. The very thought of seeing his face again turns my stomach, but this must be done. I know he has a hold over Mother, and I will _not_ allow it. I will tell him in no uncertain terms what his fate will be if he continues to manipulate her.'

'But – ' Volstagg blurts. It's only the distance between them that prevents Fandral from driving an elbow into Volstagg's midriff. Under the prince's burning gaze, the warrior feels compelled to continue: 'It may be a little too late for that.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean that…'

'That what?' Thor demands, taking a step closer. 'Speak!'

'Look, let's not be – '

'I command you to speak!'

There is a bursting silence.

'…Don't be angry with your mother.' Fandral finally caves in. 'It was my doing, not hers. The fact is, Loki is…no longer in his cell.'

'Where is he?'

'Elsewhere.'

Realisation seems to hit Thor, and his expression changes. Something like a mirthless smile briefly crosses his mouth, but quickly dies – he hasn't the heart for cynicism.

'Where?' he asks. Fandral takes a deep breath and raises a placating hand. '_Where?_' Thor shouts, making them wince.

'In my quarters,' Fandral admits.

'I trusted you.' Bafflement and incredulity are plain on his face, overlaid with disgust. 'I trusted you with my life. Yet you acted against me, and worse still, hid it from me – deliberately. And Sif, too, is she part of this?'

'…Yes.'

Thor can find no further damning words in response to this extra blow; without another word, he turns and starts to walk away at a purposeful pace.

'Where are you going?'

'To put things right.'

'Thor, wait! Don't go charging off in a temper,' Volstagg calls after him. 'There are things you ought to know first - '

'Our friendship is forthwith ended. Do not speak to me again.'


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Lots of thank-yous to EvilConcubine, keske, THORKISUPPORT, Guest, ForeverLilacLies, The Psychotic Queen (twice xD), ArainaHaldthin, GreenLoki, LilaC LioN, Aquarinus, cocopuffs jewel, FullMetalBlunt and kakashidiot for reviewing, my Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting, and Rue for beta'ing 8)**

'I'll send a servant for something to eat. Are you sure you aren't hungry?'

'No.' Frigga's head is throbbing. She rests it down for a moment on the edge of Loki's bed, letting the silken sheets cool her forehead, then straightens up again. Her gaze travels around Fandral's bed-chamber – much smaller than those of the palace, but still elegant and orderly. 'I've no appetite.'

Sif nods and heads for the door. Turning back to the bed, Frigga startles to find Loki's eyes are open. Though bleary, they show recognition. She has difficulty deciphering his parched whispers.

'…Mother…Mother…'

'My son,' she quickly kneels and touches his face. Her heart soars to see him awake, but his skin is cold and his pulse worryingly weak. 'How do you feel?'

'…Mother…Can I – please…can I have – ?' Realising what he wants, Frigga grabs the jug of water and cup from the nightstand. As she hurriedly pours him a drink, trying not to spill, he continues to mumble unintelligibly behind her. With her free hand she lifts his head into an upright position, and he manages a few swallows. She eases him back onto the pillows. His thin fingers feel her arm and shoulder as if testing her tangibility. '…Are you really here?'

'Yes.'

'I'm not dreaming?'

'No.'

'I thought that…I thought…'

'Hush now. Save your strength,' she tries to soothe him, but he keeps trying to speak.

'…I dreamt you saved me. I dreamt…'

'Shh. It wasn't a dream. You're going to be alright.'

He presses his head closer to her, shutting his eyes again.

'…Where…?'

'A safe place. You have nothing to fear.'

Within seconds he has fallen asleep in his mother's arms, exhausted by his brief exertion. Were it not for the rise and fall of his chest, she would think she was cradling a corpse; but for the first time, he looks peaceful. At that moment there is an urgent knock on the door. Thinking it is Sif returning, the queen rises – careful not to wake Loki – and goes to open it. She finds herself face-to-face with a group of armed guards. They bow their heads briefly.

'May we enter?' their captain asks. Before Frigga can answer in the negative, the guards enter uninvited.

'My queen, I apologise for the intrusion, as well as for the distress I must now cause you. We have orders from the king to arrest the criminal whom you have been sheltering in secrecy.'

'Loki is my son,' Frigga exclaims. 'How dare you enter here with swords drawn? These are _my_ orders: go back to he who sent you and tell him – '

Interrupted by a loud and hoarse scream, she turns in time to see Loki being dragged out of bed. Unable to walk, he is pulled along the floor uncaring of his legs. Amid his indistinct cries, she realises what he is trying to say. _Help me_. In that moment, all Frigga knows is outrage. Rushing to her bedside table, she snatches a concealed weapon from its hidden sheath – a long knife, sharp and gleaming. She holds it ready, and silence falls in the room.

'Unhand my son,' she orders, 'and leave us in peace.'

Then Thor enters, Mjölnir in hand, and the fight seems to go out of Frigga. Dropping the knife, she instead reaches for Loki to shield him in her embrace, but the guards block her.

'Take the queen to her chambers,' the king orders tersely, 'Mother, go with them.'

'I will not!'

'Please do not exacerbate things.'

'_None_ of this was Loki's fault – '

'I did not say it was,' Thor snaps, 'I am placing the blame at your door. Is this why Father fell ill? Because of your obstinate folly?'

Frigga falls silent, but only temporarily. At that moment Sif re-enters, her eyes widening; her hand hovers uncertainly over the hilt of her knife without drawing it.

'Stay your blade,' Thor warns her.

Loki is putting up the weakest of fights. He doesn't even get a glimpse of Thor on his way out – only a snatch of Odinson's voice as he passes by, commanding:

'Get him out of here.'

So Loki is taken away. He can hear his mother arguing and protesting until her voice is lost in the distance, and after that he doesn't remember much. His head doesn't clear until the door of his cell closes behind him; and that's when he sees the Mad Titan as clear as day, smiling at him from the other side of the glass window. And it doesn't make sense, because Thanos is out there instead of in here, and the voice is in Loki's ears instead of in Loki's head.

'_**A cage suits you much better than palace chambers, does it not?**_'

Loki retches onto the floor, but his empty stomach yields nothing. With rigid hands he clutches at his cold arms, and moans.

'M – Mother – '

'_**Piteous child**_,' Thanos chuckles before he disappears, '_**You should know better than to trust what your eyes and ears tell you. Did you truly believe you would be saved?**_'

With that, something seems to crack inside Loki, as if the final tenuous lifeline keeping him afloat has been severed. _It was a lie_, he realises, _They never saved me. I was always in this cell. I've been in this cell all along._ Managing to drag himself into the corner of the cell, he draws his legs to his chest and hugs them tightly, clutching his knees – _alone, I am alone, I have always been alone_ – and curled up against the cold white wall, he begins to rock back and forth.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Loads of thank-yous to kakashidiot, EvilConcubine, GreenLoki, THORKISUPPORT, keske, FullMetalBlunt, Vamprixxle, The Psychotic Queen, Araina Haldthin, Guest, NX-Loveless-XN (twice :D), LilaC LioN, anastacianott, .1 and angrbodagiantess for reviewing, my Alerters for Alerting, and Rue for beta'ing 8D (edited because I missed out some of you)  
**

Loki is dying. Little by little, with each passing hour, he can feel his breath shorten into sharp gasps, can feel the last remnants of warmth and vitality seeping out of his body. He is no longer aware of thirst, nor of hunger, but every now and then he is doubled up by a keen, stabbing pain in his stomach. As he sits huddled in the corner of his cell, his stupor is interrupted by the voice of the warden.

'Prisoner,' the man barks at him, 'Your brother is coming to see you. Prepare yourself.'

He does not respond, though the command is repeated. In the end the guards have no choice but to enter. Loki is pushed face-first against the white wall and held there while they tidy the cell in preparation for Thor's visit. The uneaten food is cleaned away; the torn bedding is stuffed out of sight. Two chairs and a small wooden table are laid out, along with a carafe of wine and two cups.

Loki's ragged shirt is pulled unceremoniously off him and replaced with a clean but still coarse one, before he is sat firmly down in the chair. His hands are shackled in front of him and a long chain connects him to the wall. A wet cloth is dragged unceremoniously across his face and over his hair, followed by a dry one, to remove the traces of blood and dirt. The same is done to his neck, hands and other visible skin. Finally the guards withdraw from the cell, and once again Loki is alone. His eyes are fixed on the wine and cups, but he doesn't reach for either, knowing they will vanish as soon as he tries to drink.

…_Thor? Coming to see me?_ It makes no sense; Thor never wanted to see him again. He made that clear when he sent Loki away. Why would he visit?_ To torture me_, Loki's mind supplies the most obvious answer. The guards had said nothing of Thor's intentions, but why else would he come?

Eventually the Son of Odin arrives. His expression is sombre and reserved, betraying nothing as he looks Loki up and down, taking in his ragged appearance. He signals to the guards that he desires to enter, and the stone door is opened to admit him.

'I'm not here because I want to be,' is his blunt greeting, 'I only came for Mother's sake. She would not rest or eat until I gave her my word I would visit you. I will give you one chance to speak to me, and that is all. So choose your words carefully.'

As Thor's words wash over his head, Loki slowly begins to realise that he is not dreaming. _He's here. He's really here, talking to me_. He has no idea how to respond to this, so he doesn't – he remains silent and shaking slightly. His hands are clasped in his lap, his fingers marred with what are unmistakeably bite-marks. Thor pauses when he notices this, but makes no comment on it, instead adding:

'The All-Father has entered the Odinsleep. The burden of kingship has fallen to _me_ now. Asgard has barely recovered from the damage you inflicted and now must deal with this sudden change, this reminder of how fallible their monarchy is. All because of you – because of your malice. So tell me. Tell me why you deserve another chance. Why I should waste another breath in this cell talking to you.'

'I'm sorry,' Loki mouthes soundlessly. If Thor was expecting an answer from him, it certainly wasn't that. Distrust written plain all over his face, he persists:

'I have not forgotten what you did to me. The _delight_ you took in tormenting me. The smile upon your face as you – '

'I know. I know.' The words are barely audible, 'I'm sorry.'

Thor's composure begins to falter, and he takes a moment before continuing:

'Fortunately I am not like you. It gives me no pleasure to deny you your freedom. It hurts me that I cannot trust my own…one who I once called my brother. But you have left me no choice.'

As Thor moves closer, Loki ducks reflexively, shoulders hunched in expectation – yet nothing happens. His head hangs low, waiting for the first blow to come and send him sprawling across that pristine white floor, but Thor must be biding his time.

'_**Odinson is weak**_,' an all-too-familiar voice utters. '_**So weak he cannot bring himself to mete out justice**_.' Loki jerks upright to see Thanos standing at Thor's shoulder, his eyes aflame with a blue fire. '_**You have outlived your usefulness, little trickster. The All-Father did his best to purge you, to build defences around your pathetic ruin of a mind and rid you of me, but there is always another way in. Now your golden brother will replace you as my puppet – my weapon – my window into Asgard**_.'

Loki feels sick; his manacled hands clench. Unseen by all except the Liesmith, Thanos leans close to Thor's ear and whispers. Loki can hear every word.

'_**He betrayed you. He tortured you. He threatened Jane. If you had not stopped him, he would have gladly destroyed the Nine Realms. Why should you spare him retribution? Send him to the rack**_.'

The table's legs scrape along the floor as Thor pushes it aside, the carafe teetering dangerously on the edge of the tabletop. Loki cowers, thinking he is acting on the Mad Titan's recommendation, but Thor merely leans down to his eye-level.

'Tell me one thing, at least. Did you despise us all along?'

'_**Say yes**_,' Thanos prompts. But Loki resists, clamping his mouth shut to strangle the unwilling words, shaking his head brokenly. _No, no, no…this is my last chance, my only hope…_

'Don't make me,' he entreats. 'Please don't make me.'

'_**Say it!**_'

Thanos' outburst of impatience is like a spear through Loki's belly. He tries to obey, but all that comes out of his mouth is a garbled slurry of half-formed words. Thor – oblivious and deaf to Thanos – frowns in perplexity.

'What is the matter with you?' he demands. Straightening up, he turns his back. 'If you hope to lower my guard, you will be disappointed. You weary me with your theatrics.'

'_**See? Now he is walking away. You will never see him again, nor your mother, nor your father, except in your nightmares. You will spend the rest of your life alone – but do not despair – I do not expect you will live long…**_'

Loki lurches out of his chair, but the chain stops him before he can reach Thor. The guards quickly restrain him, and he is pushed into a kneeling position on the floor. Another sharp hunger pang momentarily distracts him; something warm tickles the inside of his throat, and a moment later he coughs. Red drops speckle the white floor in front of his face. He stares at them dumbly.

'Bleeding?' Thor asks for confirmation.

'Yes, sire,' a guard replies.

'Release him.'

The guards immediately let go. Unsupported, Loki sways. Thor's boot steps into his view, and without warning his lower jaw is grasped and his head tilted backwards. Thor's eyes are as blue as ever, and Loki can't bear to meet them, closing his own instead. 'What are these marks about his face?' Thor's voice hardens. 'Has he been struck?'

'No, sire. The prisoner did them to himself.'

'When?'

'I cannot answer exact. Some recent, some old.'

'Did you not think to restrain him?'

'I did, sire; but we suspected some deception on his part. We would not go near him unless it were absolutely necessary…'

As if satisfied of something, Thor lets go of Loki and steps back.

'I must go. I have other business to attend to. But I will return later for a private talk with him.' He briefly hesitates, then adds, 'The prisoner seems unwell. Have him cleaned up – properly this time – and fed.'

In the void, the tiniest spark of light can seem like a shining sun. Loki sees hope and seizes upon it – it's as if something clicks inside his mind; his face floods with life and a sudden tremble passes through his body. From somewhere he finds the strength to stand on his own feet. Every movement is painful, but he no longer cares. Feeling light-headed, he takes a step or two towards Thor and collapses against him. Thor's immediate instinct is to shove him away in self-defence, but Loki's arms around his neck are rail-thin and powerless.

'Stop it,' Thor orders. He thinks the hiccupping sounds Loki is making are words, before realising they are sobs. Loki's forehead leans against Thor's shoulder, and he simply cries. 'I said _stop it_,' he repeats, but Loki only sinks further down, grasping Thor's hand with both of his own and holding it close to his chest. Something rough, ticklish and dry touches the back of Thor's knuckles, and he realises it is Loki's lips. Partly in disgust and partly in discomfiture, Thor looks away and spots the guards still standing nearby. Some of them are watching stone-faced, while others have averted their gazes.

Loki is dribbling blood. Finally having had enough, Thor pries him off, and the prisoner ends up in a foetal curl on the floor. Loki's heart starts to give out. A strange, cold numbness spreads from his extremities, up his limbs to his chest. The sound of his struggled breathing takes on a note of panic. Voices speak above his head, but Loki can't make out the words. Without warning, the chain is loosed; he hears it rattling noisily and feels his shackles go slack. To his utter bewilderment, he is draped in royal red cloth, lifted easily in Thor's arms and carried from the cell. The white ceiling over his head disappears, replaced by carven stone.

'Summon a healer,' he hears Thor quietly telling a nearby guard. 'The traitor is delirious.'

More is said, but it's becoming harder and harder to focus; Loki's hearing is being taken over by a low, fuzzy droning. Turning his head dizzily, he catches a final glimpse of Thanos, before the cell is out of view._ Oh gods, thank you, thank you_…He tries to whisper his gratitude, but either Thor ignores him or doesn't hear. His vision has distorted and is going dark around the edges, and as Thor begins to ascend a flight of steps, Loki passes out.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Thank you to Generation-Loki, Guest, keske, Lady Charity, GreenLoki, Vamprixxle, EvilConcubine, The Psychotic Queen, THORKISUPPORT, LilaC LioN, angrbodagiantess, kakashidiot and kelsey job 1 (_FF won't let me put the dots in your name, for some reason D:_) for reviewing, my Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting, and Rue for beta'ing. 8)**

The dream is a strange one. He is lying in a narrow but comfortable bed, swamped in furs. A bunch of dried herbs is burning in a brazier near his pillow – the sharp, pungent smell stings his nose but clears his head. Under the covers, he is wearing a nightshirt and clean undergarments.

_This is a good dream_. He wants to believe it, but so many of his nightmares are deceptive. As his groggy eyes open wider and adjust to the semi-darkness, he takes in his unfamiliar surroundings. It's a dungeon – that much is clear from the roughly hewn stone walls and ceiling, patched with damp – but it's a different one. There are a few scant pieces of wooden furniture: an empty shelf, a chair, a nightstand. Opposite the bed is an unlit fireplace. He has grown accustomed to the whiteness of his cell and the bright, electric lights of the Midgardian torture-chamber – now, the shadows are almost soothing.

There is only one door – an austere block of stone. Silent guards stand like statues on either side of it. Seeing them, Loki draws the fur covers tighter about himself like a cocoon. One of the sentries notices, says something to his companion and leaves. Loki waits nervously. Soon a stranger, wearing the garb of a healer, enters. He is carrying a tray containing various phials and vessels, which he sets down on the wooden nightstand. A few spoonfuls' worth of potion is measured out, poured into a cup, then diluted with plain water.

'Drink,' the healer orders, lifting Loki's head from the pillow and pushing the cup rather brusquely against his mouth. Loki is too cowed to refuse. The potion burns in his throat, but he forces himself to swallow all of it.

The healer exits, but the door does not close; instead, a few seconds later, Thor enters. Loki startles like a frightened animal, trembling beneath the bedcovers. Thor says nothing at first, seating himself on the edge of the bed. Loki's instincts scream at him to recoil, to put as much distance as possible between himself and the hands which have frequently beaten him bloody and strangled him to unconsciousness; but he doesn't dare move a muscle, afraid that the least movement will provoke anger.

'You look better,' Thor observes. Reaching out, he feels Loki's forehead with the back of his hand, checking his temperature. Loki can't help but flinch automatically. Thor withdraws his hand. 'I won't hurt you,' he says curtly – more of a dismissal than a reassurance. 'It's been nearly three days since you were last awake.'

Three days of undisturbed rest, free from Thanos. Could it be true? It takes a minute for Loki to find his voice.

'…Thank you…' _For everything, for this warm bed, for saving me, for giving me another chance…_

'You have Mother to thank, not me. For a while it seemed you were going to die, but she would not allow it. She nursed you back to health. You owe her your life.'

Loki's gaze skitters around, expecting Thanos to step forward and shatter the dream, but there are no shapes lurking in the shadows, no monsters waiting beneath the bed. It seems inconceivable – yet here he is, lying in a warm bed with the acrid aftertaste of medicine lingering on his tongue. The impossible had happened – the Mad Titan had _failed_. Underestimating Thor's susceptibility had proven to be a miscalculation. Thor's mind had held firm against Thanos' attempts at persuasion. He had chosen to spare Loki, and Thanos – invisible and unheard, no more than a phantom – could do nothing but watch. He held no sway over the Son of Odin.

'...starving yourself to death. You neglected your own wellbeing for so long you were on the verge of death. If I had not visited you…' Thor stops, realising Loki has begun to shake. After watching for a few long moments, Thor asks in a patient, almost impassive tone, 'Why are you crying?'

Before Thor can speak further, Loki has struggled into a sitting position and wrapped both arms around his neck in a frantic hug. Loki's bandaged fingers clutch at the fabric of Odinson's clothes, trying to ascertain their integrity, to assure himself that this is _real_.

'You're here. You came for me. You saved me,' he whispers. He finds himself being pushed away.

'Enough,' Thor cautions him in a low voice, 'Do not think that I have forgiven you. I do this out of duty, not pity.' Loki reaches for him again, but this time Thor holds him at arms' length. 'Touch me once more and you will be shackled to the bed.'

Loki backs down. The healer returns carrying a small bowl. He starts to place it on the table, but at a nod from Thor, passes it to the king instead. Loki becomes suddenly, acutely aware of hunger.

'We managed to make you swallow a little while you were insensible, but not enough to fill your belly,' Thor says, passing him the spoon. 'Eat.'

Loki fumbles for the spoon but it falls from his clumsy fingers. He lifts his head and brings the bowl closer to his mouth, practically snatching it from Thor in his haste.

'Slowly,' Thor warns him, but Loki gulps straight from the bowl. It slops over his chin and he pays it no heed. It's warm gruel – simple, tasteless, fit for a convalescent – and there has never been anything more delicious. Far too soon, Thor pulls it away with an expression bordering on disturbed. He signals for a cloth and wipes Loki's face clean. Loki can barely comprehend the act of kindness. The urge is overwhelming, but Loki refrains from voicing his pathetic gratitude; he knows it will only cause irritation and disdain.

Thor seems to be teetering on the verge of saying something he can't quite bring himself to. Looking down at the half-empty bowl in his lap, he says for Loki's ears only, too softly for the guards to overhear:

'I remember when you came to my cell. You gave me water and I wondered why. At the time I hoped it was because you still had a heart, but in hindsight I suppose you merely wanted me to live longer, so I could suffer more.' His countenance resumes its former emotionlessness. 'You almost died. I am glad you still live – you dying alone is not something I would ever desire. But you are not _free_, nor are you forgiven.'

He rises.

'Let me stay.' The words slip from Loki's mouth before he can stop it. Thor gives him a long, evaluating look that clearly asks "Why should I?". Knowing he is taking a foolish risk but unable to contain himself, Loki goes on, 'Let me stay here. Don't send me back. Not to there. Not to that place – '

'That is entirely up to you. If you conduct yourself well, you will be allowed to remain here for the duration of your convalescence. If not, you can expect to resume your previous situation.' Thor turns to leave. To the guards flanking the door, he says, 'Make certain he does not leave this room until such time as I authorise it.' But to the healer, he adds in a quieter tone, 'It's cold in here. Light a fire in that hearth and warm this place up.'

With Odinson gone, Loki continues to lie motionless, his eyes wide and tremulous in the dark, petrified that if he moves the illusion will disperse. But the only voice he hears that night is the healer's, and gradually the potion and the scent of the burning herbs have lulled him into a deep, restful calm.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Thank you to GreenLoki, kakashidiot, Vamprixxle, EvilConcubine, Guest, LilaC LioN, THORKISUPPORT, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, The Psychotic Queen, Destiny Lot and FullMetalBlunt for reviewing, Fav'ers and Followers for Fav'ing and Following, and Rue for beta'ing 8-D**

Alone, Thor paces slowly between the gilded columns of the grand hall, his normally purposeful tread burdered by a preoccupied mind. He has been king for only a week, yet it feels like an age; more than anything, he longs for his father's advice.

He is baffled by Laufeyson's condition. The Loki _he_ knows is cunning, powerful and cruel, utterly implacable in his pursuit of power and revenge. So why would he give up and allow himself to deteriorate to such an extent? What could it possibly gain him? How could it further his schemes? Thor cannot understand it. The only conclusion he can draw is that it is an attempt to elicit sympathy; perhaps a misjudged one that went too far.

Yet there was no lie in Loki's laboured breathing and failing heart – only the ravages of a broken mind and body. Thor was present in the room when Loki was undressed and his body examined; vividly he recalls the scratch-marks and bruises littering the pale skin, as if the trickster had torn at himself in a frenzy. They were real beyond doubt.

Sighing, Thor tries to push the puzzle from his mind. The Liesmith is not worth such attention. He is just a criminal. A traitor. Yet despite his best efforts, Thor cannot shake the memory of Loki weeping, the feel of Loki's arms clinging to him – No. He cannot allow his heart to soften. It is imperative that he keeps his distance.

'Thor.' Mother's voice calls softly from across the hall. He stops and sees her walking quickly towards him. So far, the queen has refrained from berating Thor for his negligence, but still he can sense her disapproval whenever they are together. He bears it unflinchingly; he has no choice. As she approaches, he half-expects her to demand Loki's freedom or some other request he cannot grant, but then he notices her excitement. 'Some good news at last,' she takes both his hands in her own. 'Your father has awoken.'

In an instant he embraces her, the rift between them temporarily closed by mutual relief.

'That is glad news. I must go and see him – '

'Yes, you must. He wishes to speak with you alone.'

'Alone? Why?'

'He did not elaborate.' Her smile has died. 'He says there is something important you need to know. Do not keep him waiting. In the meantime I will inform the high table of his awakening.'

'Of course.' They part, and Thor goes quickly to his father's chambers. He hopes to find the All-Father on his feet, strong and revitalised, but Odin is still abed, propped up comfortably on pillows. Thor hesitates at the door, then enters, announcing his presence. 'Father?' Odin's face turns towards him, and Thor stops in his tracks. The All-Father is blind.

'Do not let it trouble you,' Odin says as if reading Thor's thoughts, his vacant eye-sockets staring sightlessly. 'I will make do.'

'How did – ? Mother never told me – '

'She did not want to worry you. Or rather, she did not want to lower your opinion of Loki any further. It was Loki's doing, but not his fault. Come sit down. There is something I must tell you.' Thor approaches the bed but does not sit, finally managing to tear his gaze away from his father's eyeless face. 'How is your brother?'

'In ill health. I went to visit him and found his condition very poor.'

'In what way?'

'Malnourished and frail.'

'You seem unmoved by his suffering,' Odin remarks.

'I am not unmoved,' Thor admits; a lifetime's worth of experience has taught him that there is no use keeping secrets from the All-Father, 'But I am afraid to feel pity, knowing he does not deserve it. When I look upon him I see a wounded, pathetic creature, but I know treachery is his nature. There is nothing in him but lies. Anyhow, I left him in the care of the healers. He should recover soon enough.'

'I would not speak so confidently of "recovery". I told you, did I not, what Loki told me of his ally, Thanos?' Thor nods. 'It appears that he may have been inside Loki's head for some time.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean that Loki may not be…entirely himself.'

It takes a long minute for Thor to fully grasp the implications of this. All he can do is stare disbelievingly. Odin continues:

'Thanos' reach was longer than I first assumed. From afar, he manipulated Loki. He manipulated the queen. I suspect he may have begun to manipulate you, or at least attempted to. None of you were ever aware of it, save Loki, who could do nothing to stop it. I attempted to drive the Titan out, and the effort of it exhausted me. It may be that, his plan having failed, he leaves Loki in peace. But the Mad Titan is a powerful sorcerer; I do not doubt that he will launch another assault.'

'Loki was innocent?' Thor asks, already knowing the answer but dreading it nonetheless. Part of him doesn't want to believe it, and clings to his conviction that Loki is evil. 'But the things he did…I know his voice, I know his words. It was _him_, not some phantom inhabiting his body. You tell me now that I wronged him?' His father hesitates, and he demands with greater urgency, '_Did I wrong him?_'

'If you did, it was not your fault. Rather than taking responsibility for Loki's fate, I gave you leave to do with him as you deemed appropriate. It was my failure, not yours.'

It's as if the pit of Thor's stomach is dropping away into empty nothing, along with the floor beneath his feet. He swallows and realises his mouth has dried.

'But he was not to blame?'

'For many things, yes, he was to blame. But not for everything.'

Thor's mind reels in horror. Horror at the idea that he has sentenced Loki for a crime he did not commit, and doomed him in the process._ What have I done?_ He recollects the look of desperation on Loki's face as he was dragged away – and, with harsh clarity, remembers the callousness with which he dismissed Loki's entreaties.

'But why? Why Loki – why us?'

'Thanos never truly regarded Loki as an ally, only a stepping-stone to get to you, and from you to me. Had Loki died in prison – alone, abandoned – you would have been out of your mind with guilt and self-hatred, and your willpower weakened. With Loki's blood on your hands, you would have been susceptible to Thanos' influence. Eventually, I would have lost both of my sons.'

Unable to find words, and not knowing what to do, Thor stands there speechless. Odin waits patiently for him to come to grips with this blow, then breaks the silence.

'Do not be so quick to condemn yourself. Loki is not guiltless. He is still a traitor – just not to the extent you and I believed.'

'He was nearly dead when I found him,' Thor utters numbly, 'He _would_ have been dead had I come a day or two later.'

'Then you saved his life.'

'Only after I almost took it from him.' He thinks of Frigga, of her joy as she clasped his hands. Would she have smiled so warmly knowing that it was his stupidity and cruelty – his hasty judgement – that had cost Loki everything? 'Have you told Mother?'

'Not yet. No doubt she will be relieved to learn of Loki's innocence.'

'She will despise me.'

'For a heartbeat or two, perhaps. She loves you too much to hold your mistakes against you. You and I both have transgressions to atone for. If you find a way to make amends with him, perhaps he, in turn, may make amends with you. I do not ask that you love him again, only that you treat him with fairness.'

'What tortures did Thanos devise, to reduce Loki to this state?'

'Loki alone can answer that question, and I doubt he will. Naturally, you are relieved of the throne with immediate effect – unless you object…?'

'I have no objection.'

'Good. Leave now. I must speak with your mother. It is time she knew.'


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Lots of thanks to THORKISUPPORT, kakashidiot, EvilConcubine, LilaC LioN, ArainaHaldthin, keske, GreenLoki, Guest, The Psychotic Queen, Vamprixxle, FullMetalBlunt, Guest and angrbodagiantess for reviewing, my Faver and Alerters for Faving and Alerting, and Rue for (as always) being a squishy beta 8D**

The flickering firelight is an orange haze to Loki's eyes as he surfaces from a dark, blessedly dreamless sleep. A stinging sensation has woken him, and he realises his bandages are being removed. The healer – a taciturn, gruff sort, clearly accustomed to dealing with prisoners – is in the process of changing the dressings. Loki flinches as the sticky cloth is peeled away from his still-raw grazes, exposing them to the open air before they are swiftly covered up again. His bruises are mending, their colour changing like rotting fruit from shiny mottled purple to an ugly yellow. His skin is no longer cracked and dry, and his lower lip is one piece again. Slowly but surely, he is healing.

Some changes have been made to the dungeon – a pot simmering over the fire, a rug on the floor by the side of the bed, and woven drapes on the walls to keep the cold from emanating from the rock. They stir up dim, long-forgotten memories of the chambers he once slept in as a child, sumptuously furnished, cluttered with books he couldn't yet understand but devoured nonetheless. He wishes he could lie here forever.

The healer moves away and stirs the pot with a ladle. The smell of soup wafts to Loki's nose. He can't remember ever feeling so lucid. His mind is empty except for his own thoughts. The voice is silent. Thanos has not spoken to him since he was carried from the white cell. Perhaps the Worshipper of Death has lost interest and found something else to occupy his attention, or perhaps Thor's resilience overpowered him. But whatever the cause, Thanos is gone. Within these four stone walls, Loki is safe.

Without warning, the door opens, shattering the tranquillity. It is the Son of Odin, his face flushed and fists clenched. He dismisses the healer with a curt "Out", and strides towards the bed. Loki's lethargy dissolves into fright as he retreats, pushing himself across the mattress. His groping hand finds empty air and he almost overbalances; Thor grabs him before he can fall to the floor, ordering, 'Look at me.'

Loki can't bring himself to. So many times in his nightmares he has met those eyes, only to have their gentle blue distort into hatred and rage. He can't bear for that to happen again. Instinctively he curls up, his hands shielding his face.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' he garbles, though he has no idea what he has done to provoke Thor's anger. 'I'm sorry – please – '

'Don't do that,' Thor forces Loki's head up. 'Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. Tell me the truth, now, as my brother. When you attacked Earth…when you claimed Asgard as your own…did you act of your own accord?'

The honest answer teetering on Loki's lips is "Yes". Thanos' only desires had been the Tesseract and the Infinity Gauntlet; everything else had been left to Loki's discretion. But how can he say so? How can he admit his guilt and push his saviour away? This warm fire and soft bed will be torn from him, and he will be locked up in the whiteness again with Thanos. The prospect is unbearable.

Thor interprets Loki's silence as incomprehension. Leaning closer, he repeats more slowly:

'Did you act of your own free will?'

Loki finally makes eye-contact. His arms throb from Thor's bruising grip. Faced with no other option, Loki does what he's best at. He lies. His tongue ventures to moisten his lips, his gaze never leaving his brother's,_ willing_ Thor to believe him.

'…I don't...I don't know.'

'What do you mean? You _must_ know.'

'I can't remember.'

'Tell me what you can – everything you recall,' Thor urges.

'I remember the Bifrost,' he answers, 'We fought, and you tried to save me but couldn't. I remember…falling. I thought I was dead…I seemed to fall forever. And then I was home, and I had Gungnir in my hand, and Asgard was in ruins around me…' His voice trembles without intending to. 'I remember running…I didn't know what else to do, I didn't know what was happening, so I ran. I remember them catching me and dragging me to you…You said you never wanted to see me again. There was a voice in my head…It wouldn't go away, no matter what I said or did to appease it, it wouldn't leave me alone…'

Thor's expression is slowly changing as he listens. Gaining momentum in his falsehood, Loki continues:

'I didn't know what had happened…sometimes I overheard the guards, talking about things I had done…bad things…but all I can remember is falling, and you trying to catch me.'

Releasing Loki, Thor backs away from the bed. He puts his hands over his face, then lowers them again, and leans against the chair.

'Have I hurt you?' he asks. Loki is trembling, but shakes his head. Thor's gaze falls on the small pile of bloodstained dressings left behind by the healer, and he feels almost _sick_. 'I've disturbed your rest. I apologise. I didn't mean to alarm you.'

Thor accidentally bumps over an empty bowl on the tabletop, sending it clattering to the floor, and hastily retrieves it. It is not until he straightens up, the bowl in his hands, that he realises Mother has entered the room. Her muscles are tensed, but she appears otherwise calm and composed. Upon seeing her, Loki seems to light up, a timid hope entering his face, as if he scarcely dares to believe what he sees.

'Mother...' If he had the strength, he would rise and run to her, but as it is, all he can do is attempt to sit upright. A moment later, her embrace enfolds him.

'Are you alright? Let me look at you.' Cupping his face, she lifts his head so that the firelight falls upon it. 'I knew it all along. I knew you would never willingly forsake us. You are part of our family.' She holds him close to her body, and looks up at Thor, who is standing on the periphery like an outsider. Quietly, she says, 'Please leave us.'

Thor obeys. He doesn't look back, but before the door closes behind him he hears Loki's ragged breathing and Frigga's comforting whispers. He feels numb as he returns to the palace, barely noticing the hubbub and excitement around him as word of Odin's recovery travels fast. It is not until he comes face-to-face with the Warriors Three that he returns to his senses.

'Thor,' Fandral instinctively addresses him, then remembers Thor's position as king and hesitates. Thor returns the greeting distractedly. He has not spoken to them since loudly branding them traitors; between his parents and his brother, there has been no time for friends. 'We've heard the news about Odin. You must be glad.'

'I am. Very glad.'

'You look a little worse for wear. What's that you're holding?' Volstagg asks. Thor looks down and realises he is still carrying the empty bowl. A strong medicinal smell is rising from it.

'I...' he starts, stops, then begins again: 'I've just been to see Loki.'

Unsure how to respond, they wait for him to continue. When he doesn't, Fandral prompts him:

'And...how is he?'

'He...He was innocent. Innocent, this whole time. Thanos was the one who waged war against Earth; Loki was no more than a puppet.'

'Innocence has never been a word associated with Loki,' Fandral says, 'Are you _sure_ of this?'

'I am sure. Father and Mother are too. Loki's mind was not his own – he was completely under Thanos' control. He was innocent and I – ' he trails off, thinking back to his battle against Loki on Earth. Were there any signs he missed which might have alerted him to Loki's situation? What if he had done something – said something differently? Would Loki have returned to his senses? 'I have done Loki a great wrong. And my friends also. I am sorry. For my...unthinking words. I was unfair and unjust towards you. I make a poor king.'

He hears a footstep behind him and turns to see Sif regarding him.

'I am sorry,' he repeats to her. She nods, and asks:

'What will be done now? If Loki is innocent, that means he must go free.'

'I wish that was the case, but the power to determine Loki's fate no longer resides with me. It is Odin's decision to make. I know he will be just and reasonable, but I fear a pardon is out of the question. Loki is still guilty of treason and attempted genocide. Whether he was completely or partially responsible is not yet clear – Father will have to interrogate him to uncover the full truth – but it is likely that he is still a criminal.'

_And I drove him to it_, he adds internally. _In my stupidity, arrogance and obliviousness, I never spared him a moment's notice. What have I done? What have I done to my brother? To my whole family?_ And another voice, like an echo of his own, whispers the cold truth: '_**You failed them**_.'


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Lots of thank yous to The Psychotic Queen, Guest, GreenLoki, ArainaHaldthin, FullMetalBlunt, THORKISUPPORT, LilaC LioN, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, EvilConcubine, goldfusion, kakashidiot for reviewing and angrbodagiantess, and my Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting 8). This chapter wasn't beta'd, so there might be mistakes.**

By the time Mother finally leaves him, Loki has wearied himself with crying. He would gladly stay in her embrace forever, but she has business to attend to, assuring him she will return as soon as she is able. Alone, Loki sits on the edge of the bed, absorbing the warm, flickering firelight, his feet enjoying the softness of the fur rug. He tries to empty his mind and relax, forcing his habitually tense muscles to loosen. His eyes are closed, but they open at the soft spill of candlelight from the opening door. It's Thor. The Son of Odin is carrying a wide bowl of water, and there is a cloth draped over his forearm.

'You're starting to smell,' he informs his brother. Placing the bowl on the floor, he kneels in front of Loki like a servant, dips the fabric in the scented water and bathes the trickster's bruised legs. Loki stares down at the top of Thor's golden head. He doesn't quite grasp the implications of Thor's gesture of humility; all he knows is that the wet cloth feels soft and warm and _good_.

'Am I truly safe?' he asks softly.

'Yes. You are under the king and queen's protection – and mine. No harm will come to you. We would die before we would allow it.' Taking Loki's hand, Thor dabs carefully at the inside of Loki's wrist. 'After Midgard, I…I thought you the worst kind of evil. I believed you had abandoned everything that was good and right.' Thor takes an unsteady breath to quell his rising emotion. 'I do not expect us to be reconciled, but I would like you to know that I am sorry.'

'Am I still…' Loki tails off.

'Still what?'

'…Still…hated?'

'Not by your family. The rest of Asgard will take time.'

'I thought I was going to die in that cell.' Loki begins to tremble. 'I thought I would never see Mother or you again – I thought – '

'Hush.' Quickly putting aside the cloth, Thor reaches up to grasp the Liesmith's shoulders. 'Enough. Hush now.'

'I thought you hated me.'

'I did for a while. But no more. Understand? No more.'

Seeing how upset Thor is becoming, Loki quietens down.

'Is it night or day?' he changes the subject.

'Evening. Suppertime. Have you eaten yet?'

'No.'

'Are you hungry?' Thor asks. Loki nods. The soup, forgotten and neglected, has burnt in the pot, so Thor sends for a substitute: a simple dish of bread pieces soaked in broth. He waits until Loki has finished eating, then plumps up the pillows and helps him lie down. 'Get some rest. As soon as you are well enough, we will have you moved to somewhere more comfortable. Somewhere closer to the daylight and fresh air. Not this dark cell.'

Loki closes his eyes. Thor is still in the room, moving quietly about and putting things away, but Loki doesn't mind. He has just entered a comfortable doze when he is startled by the mattress dipping unexpectedly beneath him. He opens his eyes again to find Thor settling down beside him. Thor places a protective arm over him, and suddenly Loki's lungs seize up. A crushing weight is pinning him to the bed, and a hand is clamped tight over his mouth and nose, smothering his cries.

'Shhh,' Thor's voice whispers in his ear, every trace of kindness disappeared from it. 'No crying. It'll be quicker if you just hold still.'

Loki struggles wildly, but his arms are pinioned at his sides. His head is being shoved backwards until it feels like his neck is about to break. _Can't breathe, can't breathe_...

'There's no use crying. Nobody's going to hear you. If they did, who would come for you? Shhh.'

Loki gives a muffled scream. Somehow he manages to break free, and the next instant is on his feet. He is barely aware of snatching the bowl from the nightstand and hurling it at Thor, nor of flinging himself at the door and trying in vain to open it with numb hands. He's dizzy, and there's a tightness constricting his chest._ Got to get out, I've got to get out, I've got to breathe_ –

'Where are you hoping to go, Jötunn? You've nowhere to run to.'

The room seems to be moving further and further away, as if Loki is sinking through a trapdoor into a bottomless dark. Hyperventilating, he gropes his way frantically along the wall until he bumps into the shelf. Feeling faint, he takes a directionless step and overbalances. The world tilts, and he finds himself horizontal on the floor.

'Brother, calm down!' Thor's arms are around him, restraining him, and no matter how hard he struggles he can't get away. 'You're going to be alright.'

'No – let me go – '

'It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.'

'No – no – no – '

'Hush, brother. One breath at a time. You can do it. That's it.'

'No,' Loki moans. His hands are shaking violently, his body moving outside of his brain's control. _I can't breathe – I'm dying –_

'It'll be alright. It'll be alright...' Thor keeps on saying the words until they gradually sink in, penetrating the fog of terror which has descended on Loki's mind.

It takes almost an hour for Loki's episode to subside. It's only then that he notices he's regurgitated his supper on the floor. Realising what he's done, he can't understand why Odinson isn't enraged. Far from being furious, Thor wipes the sweat from Loki's flushed forehead.

'Do you feel any better?' he asks patiently. Loki feels _worse_, but he nods. 'I am so sorry. It wasn't my intention to frighten you. This will not happen again.'

Both of them are exhausted. Once he is capable of rising, Loki stands there on shaky legs, waiting for Thor's guidance. It takes effort for him to walk the few short steps to the bed. Thor makes sure he is comfortable, gives him a drink of water, then sets about cleaning up the mess. Not another word passes between them. Eventually, the sound of evening breathing behind him slows down until Loki drops off to sleep. The fire is burning low; Thor adds more wood to it, then quietly pulls up a chair at his brother's bedside. Loki's lank black hair is damp with perspiration, and even in repose his face is drawn and fraught. Frightened. Hurt.

_How could I have ever hated you?_ Thor wonders. The strings on Loki's nightshirt have come partially undone, leaving a pale collarbone exposed. Thor automatically reaches out to tighten them, but withdraws his hand, not daring to touch Loki again. He can't bring himself to contemplate what torment Thanos – no, what torment _he_ himself must have inflicted on Loki, that the merest reminder had sent Loki into total panic.

'I am so sorry,' he repeats quietly. There is no response, and he spends the rest of the night keeping a sleepless vigil.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Lots of thank-yous to EvilConcubine, THORKISUPPORT, LilaC LioN, ArainaHaldthin, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, Guest, GreenLoki, The Psychotic Queen, Guest, kakashidiot and vamprixxle for reviewing, and my Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting. This chapter was also not beta'd. Just to clear one thing up, I realise Chapter 23 was a bit confusing. Thor didn't try to kill Loki; Loki in fact had a flashback and a panic attack. If you misinterpreted it, you can blame that on my writing. See, this is what happens when Rue is away xD**

The morning brings six armed guards. Loki is awake when they come – lying with his back turned to the Son of Odin – yet somehow the silence which fills the dungeon is deeper than when he was asleep. Thor is sitting in morose contemplation at his brother's bedside, with nothing to listen to but his own breathing and the crackling of the fireplace, when the door opens. He tenses and stands up, his hand instinctively reaching for the hammer at his belt.

'My lord,' the guards' captain bows. 'The All-Father orders that the prisoner be escorted to the palace, where he will be confined to quarters.'

'Now?'

'Yes, my lord.'

Thor's surprise swiftly transforms into delight; he turns back to find Loki now out of bed, standing in the middle of the cell, clutching at his thin nightshirt.

'Did you hear, brother? You can come home now. Father says you are to be released from prison.'

'Am I free?'

Thor hesitates before admitting:

'No. Not yet. But you will be soon. And you can leave this place now.'

He nods to the guards, who approach Loki with a pair of shackles. Loki backs away.

'Are you sending me away?'

'No. I am taking you home.' Thor takes a step towards him, intending to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but Loki retreats. The pleading look which Loki gives him almost breaks Thor's heart.

'Don't send me away. I don't want to leave.' Loki is panicking. 'I want to stay here.'

'Forget the shackles,' Thor tells the guards impatiently. 'Let him walk unfettered. Brother, it's alright. This is not a trick. They will not hurt you. I promise.'

'Let me stay here. Please.'

'But brother – '

'I don't want to go.'

Despite all of Thor's efforts, Loki seems deaf to his reassurances and refuses to move. Thor is at a loss. He speaks quickly to the healer, who departs and, moments later, returns with a small phial. Thor uncorks it and moves it towards Loki's face, but Loki evades him.

'Here, brother. This will make you feel calm.'

'No. Don't send me away again. Not back there. Please.'

'Loki, listen to me. I am not sending you anywhere. I promise you, Loki – '

'Please. Please. I don't want to go. I don't want to go back there.'

'_Take it_,' Thor commands. 'It will make everything easier.'

Realising he has no choice, Loki stops resisting and allows Odinson to hold the phial under his nose. The musty scent reaches him, and within seconds his muscles begin to go slack. His eyes droop shut and he lolls forward, and Thor has to catch him before he can hit the floor. Despite his sudden loss of motor control, Loki can't help but feel incredibly calm. Before he knows it, he is sound asleep.

For the first time in months, he awakens to sunlight. The bed he is lying in is much larger and softer than the one he has grown accustomed to, and the ceiling above him is elegantly domed.

'Brother?' Thor, hovering nearby, quickly leans over him. 'How do you feel?'

Gingerly pushing back the bed-covers, Loki eases himself into a sitting position. Everything is familiar – the embroidered green pillowcases, the gracefully carven wood, the cluttered book-shelves lining the walls. This is his bed, and these are unmistakably his chambers.

'You were in a deeper sleep than I intended,' says Thor apologetically. 'Are you warm enough? These rooms have lain cold for a long time; there hasn't been a fire in that hearth for more than a year.' Heading to the clothes-chest, he delves through Loki's garments, searching for something appropriate.

Manoeuvring his legs over the side of the mattress, Loki rises unsteadily to his feet. After being bed-ridden for several days, his body feels weak and uncoordinated, and he has to stop and catch his breath before venturing to move about. The open archway leading to the ante-chamber is filled by a radiant, shimmering wall of gold light. It doesn't react to his presence, so he reaches out a tentative hand towards it. The barrier hums beneath the lightest contact from his fingertips, and he is able to determine a little of its design. It is complex magic, and immensely powerful. Odin and Frigga themselves have woven these enchantments. It's still a prison, just a different kind.

'Loki?' Guiltily he snatches his hand away. Thor is watching him cautiously. 'Father says you are not to leave your chambers for the time-being. Here.' He holds up a green jacket. 'You look cold. Put this on.'

Loki slips his arms into the jacket's sleeves, their interiors unbelievably silky against his skin. Hugging himself, he approaches the columned window, which is similarly blocked. Viewing Asgard from behind a pane of gold, he can see the Bifrost being repaired – a glittering rainbow stretching further and further out across the water to touch the star-strewn abyss. From this distance, the craftsmen are no larger than dots as they labour to rebuild the bridge. Basking in the caress of the sun, breathing in the gentle morning breeze which every now and then carries the fragrance of blossoming trees, Loki almost forgets that he is still imprisoned.

'If there is anything you need, tell me so. Anything at all.' Thor is still speaking. Turning away from the window, Loki wordlessly hugs him. Odinson's touch is very careful as he returns the embace. Over Thor's shoulder, Loki's gaze rapidly scans the room, and he discerns that every item of weaponry has been confiscated. There are empty spaces here and there on the shelves where a book has been removed. He is still an enemy. Thor releases him and places a hand on either side of his face. 'How do you feel?'

'Better.'

'Good.' Within the hour, his breakfast tray arrives bearing something different than gruel or milksop: seasoned potatoes and a wedge of pie. The smell is mouth-wateringly rich. 'How long has it been since you had good pie?' Thor grins as he pulls up a chair nearby. Loki picks up the fork, but his eyes move to his brother, seeking permission before he takes the first bite. He has only eaten a few mouthfuls when Thor asks him a question that kills his appetite. 'Do you remember my coronation day?'

After a moment of paralysis, Loki gives a single nod.

'You were happy on that day,' he responds quietly, 'Until I ruined it.'

The candid admission startles Thor.

'How much of it can you remember?'

'...Bits and pieces.'

'And my exile?'

The fork clatters noisily against the plate as an involuntary tremor passes through the Liesmith. Seeing that he is making Loki nervous, Thor softens his voice.

'I only wish to understand, brother.'

Loki drops his gaze, nudging the food around on his plate. There is too much of it, and the flavours are overpowering, but he forces himself to place another forkful of meat and pastry in his mouth, chew it and swallow. Thor continues to press him with questions: a gentle interrogation, but an interrogation nonetheless. The answers are evasive, non-committal and inconsistent. When Thor challenges these contradictions, Loki excuses himself by saying his memories are hazy. When Thor mentions Laufey, it triggers an hour-long episode of panic as Loki is plunged into an icy torture-chamber on Jötunheim. Afterwards, Loki is too exhausted and shaken to speak further.

Thor leaves him sleeping and goes in search of his father. He finds the king pacing slowly through the orchards in front of the palace, alone and clearly in deep thought. Though blind, he walks with the same surety he always has, and shows no surprise at Thor's abrupt greeting.

'Father, may I speak with you?' Receiving a nod in reply, Thor falls into step beside Odin, matching his pace. 'I feel we should discuss Loki.'

'How is he?'

'Much better.'

'Does he still have need of a healer?'

'For his body, no. For his mind, yes. Will you not come and see him?'

'Soon,' the All-Father replies, 'Tomorrow, perhaps. I have other matters to take care of first. Public grievances must be heard, and the Bifrost is nearing completion.' Thor does not voice his disappointment at the answer, but Odin must sense it, for he adds, 'There will be ample time to deal with Loki. For now, we should concentrate on his convalescence. Once he is of sound health and capable of speaking for himself, he will have to stand trial. You understand that, do you not?'

'But only as a formality, yes? You would not condemn him again, surely.'

'That will depend upon the extent of his guilt. My verdict will be fair, but no more than that. Not lenient. Not soft. Only fair.'

'Father.' Thor comes to a halt, and a step or two later so does Odin. 'I have been speaking with Loki. We talked about his last days on Asgard, before he fell from the Bifrost. I asked him what his clearest memory was, and he told me it was going to the vault, picking up the Casket of Ancient Winters and finding out...finding out what he truly is. _That_ must have been the point where Thanos entered his mind. What better time to insinuate himself than when Loki was filled with doubt about his own identity?'

'Did he give up this information willingly? What was his manner?'

'He seemed anxious. Hesitant. But that's understandable.'

'Hesitant because he could not remember clearly, or because he was thinking on his feet?'

'The former. Father, listen. When I was on Earth, I had a friend, an ally. His name was Clint Barton. Loki used him as a pawn in his pursuit of the Tesseract. When he was freed from Loki's control, Barton exhibited the same symptoms Loki now shows: distress, confusion, gaps in his memory where he had no idea what he'd done. Can you not see? Loki was a victim of – '

'Loki was, as he has been for most of his life, victim of his own insecurities. Not everything is Thanos' fault.'

'How can you speak of Loki so damningly?' Frustration darkens Thor's brow. 'Is it really so impossible that he might be telling the truth?'

'It is entirely possible. He has moments of honesty,' Odin acknowledges, 'I am merely warning you: _do not be naïve_. Loki is a convincing liar and always has been. His artifice is a shield as much as a weapon, and he will use it to defend himself – especially now, when he is at his most vulnerable. No matter how your heart breaks for him, do not let his falsehoods sway you.'

'He is _sorry_. He admitted that he orchestrated my exile and your attempted murder – he confessed and took responsibility for it! And he _regrets_ what he has done. Is that not enough to earn him your pardon? Why must you persist in treating him as if he were an enemy?'

'Thor.' At last the All-Father turns to face him, and Thor is forced to make eye-contact with sightless sockets. 'Thanos' silence troubles me deeply. I have been his enemy since long before you were born, and I know his ruthlessness. I hope that he is gone, but it is more likely that he is biding his time, awaiting another opportunity. Be wary of anything that Loki may say to you, no matter how innocent or innocuous; for the Mad Titan may speak to you with your brother's voice. He may use Loki to get close to you.'

'Father, please.' The look on Thor's face is painfully earnest. 'Go and talk to Loki yourself. He has changed. He is _broken_.'

'I doubt very much that Loki will show me the same face he shows you. He is well aware that I have never believed his tricks, and he will know better than to try them on me. But I can see how much hurt this causes you. If it will bring you peace of mind, be assured that I will speak with him myself. Alone.'


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Thank you to THORKISUPPORT, The Psychotic Queen, kakashidiot, ArainaHaldthin, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, LilaC LioN, FullMetalBlunt, Guest, angrbodagiantess (twice xD) and EvilConcubine for reviewing, Favers and Followers for Faving and Following, and my squishy beta Rue for beta'ing.**

Alone in his chambers during Odinson's absence, Loki cannot help but weep. Sheer gladness makes him want to fall to the ground and give thanks to fate, the Norns, whatever higher power might exist. He used to think that the Mad Titan was everywhere and safety was impossible, but now that he is once again living in the palace – under his family's roof – he feels he has found a haven, as though this luminous golden cage can keep Thanos out.

Once his emotions have subsided, he relaxes in quiet solitude. There are no guards watching him, nor does he have servants to tend his fireplace and changes his beddings – Thor takes care of all that. He is sitting up in bed with the covers drawn up to his chest, reading a book, when he hears the ante-chamber door opening. Assuming it is Thor returning, he doesn't move, but then Odin enters. As the king steps through the enchanted barrier – unarmed, unarmoured, robed in white – the blood drains rapidly from Loki's face.

'Stay in bed. Do not rise on my account. I am only here to speak.'

It's as if a knife has punched a hole in Loki's safe little bubble. He continues to hold the book up in front of him almost protectively, his eyes following the All-Father's every move. Odin crosses the room to the window, touches the golden pane as if to ensure that it is still unbroken, then approaches Loki's bedside and reaches out.

'Give me your hand,' he says. Loki recoils, but Odin takes his hand anyway, feeling his wrist and fingers. 'You're healthier than when we last met. You're gaining your weight back.' Letting go, he steps away, maintaining a careful distance from Loki. 'I am blind now.' He gestures towards his left eye. 'Do you know how this happened to me?'

Loki shakes his head then, realising Odin can't see the gesture, whispers "No". The answer seems to satisfy Odin.

'Thor tells me you are getting better. Is that the case?'

'Yes.'

'And these recurring fears – do they come in your sleep or only with stimuli?'

'...They don't always come. The medicine stops them. But sometimes I – something happens and I – everything comes flooding back and I can't help it.'

Odin listens patiently and nods.

'Thor says you are changed. He also says you have no recollection of the past year, nor of the actions which resulted in your imprisonment. Do you know what you did?' The final question is bluntly spoken.

'...No.'

'Thor has not explained to you?'

'...He – he has, but – '

'You were unaware of what you were doing when you turned the Bifrost's power against Jotunheim?'

'...I...I don't recall...'

'You do not remember what happened on Earth?'

'A little...Some of it...'

'Such as?'

Loki swallows to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. His voice cracks as he answers:

'A Midgardian city. A metal fortress which flew. A dark rift in the sky. That is all.'

'You do not remember Thor attempting to reason with you?'

'No.'

'You do not remember wielding the sceptre and the Tesseract?'

'I remember a blue light surrounding me. No more than that.'

'Why did you tell Thor you remembered nothing?'

Cold silence fills the room. Seconds drag by as Loki dithers, and he can feel his hold on the situation slipping away from him.

'I...I was confused.'

'You told Thor what you thought he wanted to hear.' Odin's words carry a grim finality, yet the look on his face is not one of anger, nor even triumph. He looks _disappointed_. 'You can fool Thor with your falsehood, but not me. Tell me the truth. The _whole_ truth, not fragments of it. Start from the beginning.'

Loki's heart is hammering in his chest. The book drops from his fumbling hands as he attempts to construct an answer.

'I don't – I don't know – '

'Thor is shouldering sole responsibility for the pain you brought on yourself. He believes himself to be the wrongdoer and you an innocent victim. He trusts you completely. Do you feel no shame for that?'

Realising his deception is crumbling around him, Loki gives up all pretence.

'You don't know Thanos. You don't know what he can do to you. He enters your mind. He leaves you no choice but to do what he says.'

'You had a choice. I offered you a chance to let me help you. You refused, either from distrust or arrogance.'

'Please.' Loki shifts forwards in the bed, hands outreached beseechingly. 'You don't know what it was like.'

'_I do_. Long ago, he and I did battle, and I defeated him. You suffered for _my_ actions. For that, I apologise to you. I never wanted any of this to happen to you. But I cannot allow you to deceive your brother. He deserves to know the truth.'

'He can't know. If he does, he'll...'

'He will what? Hurt you? You must know I would never allow that – nor would he ever do it. Thor is not cruel. But he will very likely feel misused. Is that what you dread? His wrath? It has never fazed you in the past.'

'Thor hurt me. He _hurt me_. He – ' Loki's breath catches in his throat as he is confronted by the sudden memories of Thor's hands around his throat, being pinned down beneath Thor's weight, scratching his nails off against the hard stone floor in his struggles to escape.

'Those were illusions – lies. They were not real.'

'They _were_ real to me.'

'You need not feel pain anymore. Nobody here will hurt you, least of all your brother. But how do you think he will feel when he discovers you have been lying to him? Are you confident you can win back his trust yet again?' Odin pauses. 'I will keep your secret for now.'

Loki feels a split-second's relief, before the king continues:

'I want you to admit it yourself. I will give you _one_ chance to prove you have a conscience. Whether or not you tell him is your choice; but if you do not, I will tell him myself.'

'Why are you doing this to me?'

'Because until you have proven to me that you have changed, I cannot release you. If you continue to lie and deceive everyone around you, I will have no choice but to keep you incarcerated.'

'Wait.' In the blink of an eye, Loki is out of bed and on the floor. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lie. I didn't mean to deceive him. I didn't mean it.'

'That is why I do not trust you,' Odin replies, 'How much of what you do and say is _meant_?'

'I'm sorry. I'll tell him. I will. I'll tell him everything.' Loki doesn't notice he's crying until he finds himself gasping for air. The next thing he knows, Odin has knelt too, and is holding him close – something Loki has not experienced since childhood. 'I'll tell him. I swear. I won't lie again.'

Loki feels his shoulders being grasped comfortingly. Odin's hands are old, but so much stronger and steadier than his own.

'Thor will forgive you. He always does. But he will respond better if he hears it from your own lips. Be honest with him for once, and hope for the best.'

Loki nods. As he leans into his father's embrace, his gaze falls on the door behind Odin's shoulder. And there, on the other side of the shimmering gold wall, he sees the towering form of Thanos standing, unearthly eyes burning in Loki's direction. Part of Loki knows that the incorporeal projection is powerless to hurt him, but the rest of him turns numb and cold with horror. The Mad Titan's voice is inaudible, but Loki can read the words upon his moving lips.

'_**Your death will be a slow one, Liesmith**_.'

Like a trick of the light, the phantom is already gone. Blood pounds in Loki's ears, and before he can register Odin's voice asking him "What is wrong?", he faints.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Thank you to The Psychotic Queen, EvilConcubine, kakashidiot, Guest, goldfusion, Vamprixxle, FullMetalBlunt, ClintBarton-Loki'sButtWarmer, THORKISUPPORT, Guest, ArainaHaldthin, Suheyla and AutumnFortune for reviewing, Favers and Alerters for Faving and Alerting, and Rue for beta'ing (squishily, ofc).**

Thor is hovering anxiously in the passageway when he sees the king re-emerge from Loki's chambers. It has been well over two hours since Odin first disappeared into the trickster's quarters, and he looks weary.

'Father,' Thor wastes no time in striding up to him. 'Did it go well? What did he say?'

'Little by way of truths. Mostly lies in an attempt to avoid angering me.'

Thor's heart sinks. _Brother, why?_

'In fact, we did not speak long. He lost consciousness for a short time, and when he woke I had to calm him. He seemed to be suffering a hallucination of some kind, which he was too frightened to articulate. He was fine afterwards. Shaken and pale, but fine. I thought it best to leave the conversation there.'

Thor feels sick to his stomach at the thought of his brother in such a state. Had meeting the All-Father face-to-face been so overwhelmingly distressing to Loki? Worse still, Thor had encouraged this meeting, practically thrust it upon him. _What was I thinking? All I have achieved is causing him more fear and pain._

'How long have you been waiting here?' Odin is asking.

'A while. I could think of nothing else but Loki…Would it be unwise for me to speak to him now? Does he need time?'

'He may not be happy to see either of us again, but doubtless he would prefer your presence to mine,' Odin replies as he walks away, 'You may go in and see him.'

Thor is unconvinced by this assurance, and waits a while before entering Loki's bed-chamber. He finds the Liesmith sitting limply in the chair by the fireplace. Something about his posture is broken, screaming of defeat.

'Brother?' Thor softly draws his attention, eliciting a startled jerk. 'Are you alright?'

'No.' Loki shakes his head. His eyelids are puffy and sore-looking as if from crying. 'The All-Father came.'

'I know,' Thor confesses. 'I asked him to. I was so desperate for the two of you to reach an understanding. I am sorry…' Approaching his brother, he cautiously adds, 'Father said that you were sick. He told me – '

'I saw something…I _thought_ I saw something. Something that wasn't there – that _couldn't_ be there...'

'What did you see?'

'..._Him_.'

It takes a second for Thor to understand. Pity brims in his eyes.

'Loki. Thanos is gone. It is only your fear which tells you otherwise. Father drove him from your mind – cast him out and broke his hold over you. He is _gone_.'

'I know. Odin said the same. But...'

'And besides, if the Titan ever set foot on Asgard, he would have me, Father, Mother and an army to contend with before he could come within a stone's throw of you.'

Odinson is so sincere, so utterly _naïve_, that for a moment Loki's heart swells with something akin to love. But it doesn't last long; with the All-Father's threats looming over him, he knows he has no choice but to sever his newly formed bond with his brother. He stands up, bringing himself to Thor's eye-level, and steels himself.

'Thor.'

'Yes?'

'I...I need to...' Thor is being so gentle, and the thought of provoking him to anger is unbearable. Loki closes his eyes. In the soft darkness behind his eyelids, it is much easier to say the words: 'There's something I need to tell you.' He opens his eyes to find that countenance still the same, that concerned expression still unchanged. Maybe Odin is right and it won't be so bad. Maybe Thor will berate him but then forgive him. Clinging to that hope, Loki takes a deep breath and ploughs on: 'Yesterday I told you something that wasn't true. I told you a lie.'

Not knowing how to react to this, Thor initially smiles, then puts a hand on Loki's shoulder.

'It was probably a small lie. Nothing to shed tears over. But what was it? Come, brother. You can tell me anything.'

He receives no reply. Loki is now staring at something behind Thor and growing whiter by the second. Thor turns to see the Warriors Three standing on the other side of the golden barrier, clearly unsure as to whether they can or should enter. Fandral waves to him. Thor quickly moves to block the three warriors from Loki's view, asking:

'What are you doing here?'

'We've come to see Loki,' Fandral answers, 'We thought...what with him being ill and, well, innocent, like you said...we'd pay him a visit.'

'That was very kind of you.' Thor casts a nervous glance at his brother. 'Loki, will you not greet them?' Loki shakes his head without a word. His eyes have turned glassy and fixed, and his hands are shaking, their palms sweating. The look on his face tells Thor everything he needs to know. 'My friends, I appreciate it. I truly do. But Loki...he is not ready to take visitors yet. Besides myself and our parents, I mean.'

'We can come back some other time,' Volstagg assures him.

'Please do. I am sure once my brother is better, he would appreciate some company besides mine.' Glancing once again over his shoulder, he realises Loki is no longer there. The trickster has retreated to his library and closed the door. He hears the scraping of furniture being dragged across the floor. Realising the urgency of the situation, Thor adds, 'I am sorry to be brusque, but please leave.'

Hearing the earnestness in his tone, the trio complies. The moment they have left, Thor hastens to be at his brother's side, but the library door refuses to open. A harder push tells him that it is blocked from the other side.

'Brother?' he calls, suppressing his worry and endeavouring to sound consolatory. 'Are you there? You can come out now. They've gone.' He hears a mumble from the other side, but can't discern the words. 'Do you hear me, brother? They've gone away. It's safe to come out.'

'No,' Loki raises his voice. 'Leave me alone. Please leave me alone.'

'You have nothing to be afraid of. They would not hurt you, and even if they did, I would never let them. May I come in?'

'No! Go away. Please go away. Please.'

Placing his ear close to the door and listening, Thor can now discern Loki's strained, ragged breathing.

'Brother, listen to me. Try to calm yourself. Open the door.'

'No – no – no – please – ' Loki's speech has deteriorated into incoherent babble.

Thor puts his shoulder to the door and forces it open, shoving aside the wooden bookcase Loki placed in the way. It topples with a deafening crash, scattering crushed books with bent and broken covers. Before he can recover his footing, Loki has darted past him, making a break for the door.

'Let me go!' Loki runs straight into the golden barrier, only to rebound and fall in a graceless heap. Crying out, he begins to beat his head against the floor. Thor forcibly restrains him, cushioning Loki's head on his lap.

'Brother, be still!' he pleads. Suddenly, a fierce pain erupts in his right leg. Looking down, he realises there is a dagger in Loki's hand, and Loki is stabbing him repeatedly in the knee with what desperate force he can muster.

'_Let – me – go –_ '

Thor is too shocked to be angry. Loki turns the blade towards himself.

'Brother, _no!_' Grabbing Loki's wrists, Thor yells in his face, '_No!_'

Loki seems to be jolted out of his frenzy. The dagger vanishes into thin air, and he lies moaning on the floor. Thor waits several minutes before relenting his grip, wincing as he puts his weight on his wounded leg. He cares nothing for his own injury, but Loki's forehead is bleeding and needs attention.

'Stay there and don't move,' Thor orders. Leaving Loki's side, he limps out into the corridor. 'You!' he shouts to the nearest guards. 'Send for a healer.'

Returning to his brother's bed-chamber, he finds Loki now backed into the corner, clutching his head in both hands and whispering beneath his breath. He is haloed in golden light. With horror, Thor realises what Loki is attempting to do.

'Brother, no!' Thor throws himself across the room but is too late. He might as well be trying to grab smoke; his hand passes straight through Loki's arm. He catches a final glimpse of the trickster's terrified face before the magic snatches Loki away, leaving Thor facing a blank wall.

It's so cold. Hugging himself tightly, Loki staggers blindly forwards. Shadows surround him. Shapeless lights lend definition to the darkness; whether they are the auras of beings or doorways to other realms, it's difficult to tell. He skirts around them, stumbling in no particular direction with no clue of where he is headed, no destination and no end in sight. Shutting his eyes tight, he wills the world away. He gets his wish; the next instant, he is freefalling through empty air, unable to control his descent. Without warning, he slams head-first into solid ground. The impact stuns him; coloured spots fill his vision. The surface beneath him is uniformly flat, with a rough, unfriendly texture and strangely burnt odour.

Stunned and disorientated, ears ringing, he manages to lift his head. Just as he does so, he is almost deafened by a loud, blaring wail like a war-horn. Something huge – all painted metal and blinding lights – whooshes past him at great speed, so close he feels the wind of its transit. It disappears as quickly as it came, leaving silence and foul smoke in its wake. The nauseating stench of it lingers in the air before dissipating, and makes Loki cough. Something about it is familiar, but it takes him a while to recognise it. When he does, the realisation of where he is hits him like a punch to the gut.

Midgard.


End file.
